"I'm never wholly of it.

I either want to do as they did when George Villiers had his innings, or play the gipsy as I did so many years." The gipsy! As he held the papers in his hand he thought as he had done last night, of the gipsy-van on Ridley Common, and of--how well he remembered her name!--of Andree.
He suddenly threw his head back, and laughed.

"Well, well, but it is droll! Last night, an English gentleman, an honourable member with the Treasury Bench in view; this morning an adventurer, a Romany.

I itch for change.

And why?
Why?
I have it all, yet I could pitch it away this moment for a wild night on the slope, or a nigger hunt on the Rivas.
Chateau-Leoville, Goulet, and Havanas at a bob ?--Jove, I thirst for a swig of raw Bourbon and the bite of a penny Mexican! Games, Gaston, games! Why the devil did little Joe worry at being made 'move on'?
I've got 'move on' in every pore: I'm the Wandering Jew.