But o' nights there was the moon, or else the stars, or else the sunset, an' anyway all the air between to look at.

I 'ad a back room, 'igh up, and o' nights I use to sit an' breave there, an' look at the sky.

Believe me, dearie, I was mad about breavin'-- it was me only recreation, so to say.

By Gawd, it's a fair wonder 'ow the sky an' the air keeps on above the mud, and 'ow we looks at it, an' breaves it, an' never pays no rent for it, when all's said an' done.

There ain't never a penny put in the slot for the moonlight, when you come to think of it, yet still it all goes on.