to that, I was almost instantly aware of the pangs of hunger again.

"Hold on there!" the policeman shouted after me; "why, you're walking off
without your hat, you Juggins! So--h there; now, go on."

"I indeed thought there was something--something I had forgotten," I
stammered, absently. "Thanks, good-night!" and I stumbled away.

If one only had a little bread to eat; one of those delicious little brown
loaves that one could bite into as one walked along the street; and as I
went on I thought over the particular sort of brown bread that would be so
unspeakably good to munch. I was bitterly hungry; wished myself dead and
buried; I got maudlin, and wept.

There never was any end to my misery. Suddenly I stopped in the street,
stamped on the pavement, and cursed loudly. What was it he called me? A
"Juggins"? I would just show him what calling me a "Juggins" means. I
turned round and ran back. I felt red-hot with anger. Down the street I
stumbled, and fell, but I paid no heed to it, jumped up again, and ran on.
But by the time I reached the railway station I had become so tired that I
did not feel able to proceed all the way to the landing-stage; besides, my
anger had cooled down with the run. At length I pulled up and drew breath.
Was it not, after all, a matter of perfect indifference to me what such a
policeman said? Yes; but one couldn't stand everything. Right enough, I
interrupted myself; but he knew no better. And I found this argument
satisfactory. I repeated twice to myself, "He knew no better"; and with
that I returned again.

"Good Lord!" thought I, wrathfully, "what things you do take into your
head: running about like a madman through the soaking wet streets on dark