Page 222 - down-and-out-in-paris-and-london

eightpence—a penny short of his kip. It was long past the
hour for paying, and he had only managed to slip indoors
when the deputy was not looking; at any moment he might
be caught and turned out, to sleep on the Embankment.
Bozo took the things out of his pockets and looked them
over, debating what to sell. He decided on his razor, took it
round the kitchen, and in a few minutes he had sold it for
threepence—enough to pay his kip, buy a basin of tea, and
leave a half-penny over.
Bozo got his basin of tea and sat down by the fire to dry
his clothes. As he drank the tea I saw that he was laughing
to himself, as though at some good joke. Surprised, I asked
him what he had to laugh at.
‘It’s bloody funny!’ he said. ‘It’s funny enough for
PUNCH. What do you think I been and done?’
‘What?’
‘Sold my razor without having a shave first: Of all the—
fools!’
He had not eaten since the morning, had walked several
miles with a twisted leg, his clothes were drenched, and he
had a halfpenny between himself and starvation. With all
this, he could laugh over the loss of his razor. One could not
help admiring him.

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