Walking into the town, he debated with himself whether it were not better to save this florin.

But as he approached the pit door, the spirit of pleasure revived in him; he had seen but one of Shakespeare's plays, and he believed (naturally at his age) that to see a drama acted was necessary for its full appreciation.

Sidling with affected indifference, he added himself to the crowd.
To stand thus, expectant of the opening doors, troubled him with a sense of shame.

To be sure, he was in the spiritual company of Charles Lamb, and of many another man of brains who has waited under the lamp.
But contact with the pittites of Kingsmill offended his instincts; he resented this appearance of inferiority to people who came at their leisure, and took seats in the better parts of the house.

When a neighbour addressed him with a meaningless joke which defied grammar, he tried to grin a friendly answer, but inwardly shrank.