'I am just going to
see him.'
'Where does he live?'
'In some indiscoverable hole. To save fuel, he spends his
mornings at some reading-rooms; the admission is only a penny,
and there he can see all the papers and do his writing and enjoy
a grateful temperature.'
They repaired to the haunt in question. A flight of stairs
brought them to a small room in which were exposed the daily
newspapers; another ascent, and they were in a room devoted to
magazines, chess, and refreshments; yet another, and they reached
the department of weekly publications; lastly, at the top of the
house, they found a lavatory, and a chamber for the use of those
who desired to write. The walls of this last retreat were of blue
plaster and sloped inwards from the floor; along them stood
school desks with benches, and in one place was suspended a
ragged and dirty card announcing that paper and envelopes could
be purchased downstairs. An enormous basket full of waste-paper,
and a small stove, occupied two corners; ink blotches, satirical
designs, and much scribbling in pen and pencil served for mural
adornment.
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