There was a strained, eager expression on his face. He would be so disappointed. Yet he’s been here for six years, and he’s as much a fixture as that sham mahogany sideboard. The transverse spars before mentioned were as slippery as ice; and the hollows between them were filled ankle-deep with water. It was long and narrow, a well-lit, wellventilated, quiet gallery of small tables and sinks, pervaded by a thin smell of methylated spirit and of a mitigated and sterilized organic decay. The houses on Snow Hill were thronged, like those in Old Bailey. The night was now advancing, and the party began to think of separating.
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