The florin paid off the remainder of his gambling debt but Watson did not feel much relief. It was a small and specific wish, but also a selfish one. His second wish, he vowed himself, would carry more meaning.
"I wish for five average-sized loaves of fresh wheat bread," he whispered in an alley, pulling the lamp from his pocket and rubbing the worn sides.
He supposed he could have purchased the bread but he feared that by the time he came back, the five starving little urchins would have been lost to the wildness of London's alleys and byways.