A SCRAP OF PAPER To be awakened by Rollo, to be served in bed with an appetizing breakfast and to catch a hansom to the nearest elevated station were novel preparations for work in the _Sentinel_ office.

The impossibility of it all delighted St.George rather more than the reality, for there is no pastime, as all the world knows, quite like that of practising the impossible.

The days when, "like a man unfree," he had fared forth from his unlovely lodgings clandestinely to partake of an evil omelette, seemed enchantingly far away.

It was, St.George reflected, the experience of having been released from prison, minus the disgrace.
Yet when he opened the door of the city room the odour of the printers' ink somehow fused his elation in his liberty with the elation of the return.

This was like wearing fetters for bracelets.
When he had been obliged to breathe this air he had scoffed at its fascination, but now he understood.