The thought filled him with weariness.

The vagabond in him recoiled from the set labours and common burdens of his kind.

Ever since he could remember he had been more at home in the streets than in the four walls of a room.

The Push, the corner, the noise and movement of the streets--that was life for him.

And he decided the matter for ever; there was nothing in it.
But, as the months slipped by, and Jonah remained impregnable to her masked batteries, Mrs Yabsley attacked him openly.