It was not only that Neverbend would boast that he alone had gone through the perils of their subterranean duty, but that doubtless he would explain in London how his colleague had been deterred from following him.

It was a grievous task, that of dressing himself, as youthful sinners know but too well.

Every now and then a qualm would come over him, and make the work seem all but impossible.

Boots, however, stuck to him like a man, poured cold water over his head, renewed his tea-cup, comforted him with assurances of the bracing air, and put a paper full of sandwiches in his pocket.
'For heaven's sake put them away,' said Alaric, to whom the very idea of food was repulsive.
'You'll want 'em, sir, afore you are half way to Mary Jane; and it a'n't no joke going down and up again.

I know what's what, sir.' The boots stuck to him like a man.