Explore "A Master of Craft" by W.W. Jacobs on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
In happy ignorance of the changes caused by his sudden and tragic end, Captain Flower sat at the open window of his shabby Walworth lodging, smoking an after-breakfast pipe, and gazing idly into the dismal, littered yard beneath. Time-owing to his injured foot, which, neatly bandaged at a local dispensary, rested upon a second chair-hung rather heavily upon his hands as he sat thinking of ways and means of spending the next six months profitably and pleasantly. He had looked at the oleographs on the walls until he was tired, and even the marvels of the wax fruit under a cracked glass shade began to pall upon him.
"I'll go and stay in the country a bit," he muttered; "I shall choke here."