It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. S. Strongly impregnated with the mingled odours of tobacco, ale, brandy, and other liquors, the atmosphere was almost stifling. Gives you a right to hang on to the old man until he busts—practically. The poet's appearance altogether was highly prepossessing. "Sorry you're obliged to keep your word. I’ve told them all that was necessary, but I— wanted to ask your pardon—for having made myself a nuisance to you, and for breaking into your rooms—and to thank you—the doctor says you bound up my wound—or I should have bled to death.
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