Do you hear ?" Jeffreys spared them the trouble and stepped into the street, determined to die before he laid himself open to such an indignity again.
His last night's experience at a common lodging-house did not tempt him to seek shelter again now, and as it was a fine mild night even at that time of year he trudged out of York into one of the suburbs, where at least everything was clean and quiet.

He had the good fortune in a country lane to come across a wagon laid up by the roadside, just inside a field--a lodging far more tempting than that offered by Mr Josephs, and considerably cheaper.

The fatigues and troubles of the day operated like a feather-bed for the worn-out and dispirited outcast, and he slept soundly, dreaming of Forrester, and the bookshop, and the dog Julius.
Next morning the weary search began again.

Jeffreys, as he trudged back to the city, felt that he was embarked on a forlorn hope.

Yet a man must live, and a sovereign cannot last for ever.