The day was hot, the air of the shop was foul with the smells of rotting meat and vegetables.

He felt himself stagger against a stall.

He seemed to be asleep, but he heard the butchers laughing.

They called him a drunken tramp, and then he was hurled out on the muddy pavement.
"Too much whiskey for this time o' day!" a policeman said, hauling him to his feet.
"Move along, young man!" Whiskey?
That was what he wanted.

He turned into a shop and bought a dram with his last pennies.