Later that week the weather was still bitterly cold. Nevertheless, George found himself staying up late with his books, reading up on tort by candlelight with a blanket wrapped around him for warmth. It was extraordinary how fascinating the English legal system could be, built as it was in the main upon individual cases.
But even George’s interest in larrikins (who or whatever they might be) throwing squibs into crowds couldn’t sustain him long past midnight, given that he’d been up at six that morning and would have to do the same on the morrow. Yawning, he closed his books and shed his clothes, shivering as the chilly air struck his bare flesh. As he hastily pulled on his pyjamas, he was startled to hear someone speaking. The words were indistinct, but George was almost certain they cam
