I say, Court, don't he look a hungry one ?" "Regular wolf," said Courtenay; and there was another laugh.
"I say," said Courtenay, "I don't believe he's a workhouse." "He is, I tell you; Browny went and bought him yesterday.

They sell 'em cheap.

You can have as many as you like almost for nothing.

They're glad to get rid of 'em." "I wonder what they'd say to poor old Shock!" I thought to myself.
"I'm glad he isn't here." "I don't care," said Courtenay; "I think he's a London street boy.

He looks like it from the cut of his jib." I paid not the slightest heed, but my heart beat fast and I could feel the perspiration standing all over my face.
"I don't care; he's a pauper.