Drake walked to the window and stood facing the sunlight, breathing it in.

'Clarice,' she heard him murmur, with a shake of his shoulders like a great Newfoundland dog; and then the cry of a newspaper boy shouting the headlines of a special edition rasped into the room.
Drake leaned out of the window.

'Hi!' he called, and tossed a penny into the street.
'Threepence,' shouted the boy from below.
'It's a penny paper,' cried Drake.
'Threepence.

There's a corner in 'em.' Clarice listened to the argument.

Most men, she thought helplessly, don't buy newspapers the moment they have been accepted, and, at all events, it is an occasion when they are disposed to throw their money about.