Murphy: The Early Years (Part XI)

In later years, he would recall that day: the man’s red blood, mingling with the boys’ pale tears, yielding something much better than either.
He still did not know, what thing it was; but he would speculate, and contemplate: as he drew the rich dense smoke, now deeply into his hungering lungs. These same sweet smokes, for which he used to be beaten, which he used to either filch or do without out: a pack might now be had, for little more than a quarter, with a respectful tip of the hat from the shopkeeper; decorated, to boot, with the tinted image of a dromedary, and a pyramid, so pleasing to the eye; progress, of a sort.
(Meanwhile, offstage, out of sight: other boys, and other orphans…)