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Updated: May 11, 2025
The hansom rattled across the stones, dashed round corners, struck consternation to scudding children in pinafores, all but annihilated more than one perambulator, and in less than ten minutes after leaving Mr. Burkham's door, ground against the kerbstone before the little gate of Gray's Inn. "God grant that George Sheldon may be at home!"
It seemed for a moment as though history were about to repeat itself. A great limousine had stolen up to the kerbstone and a woman in evening dress was leaning out. "Mr. Tallente," she called out, "do come and speak to me, please." Tallente approached at once. In the dim light his heart gave a little throb. He peered forward. The woman laughed musically.
But he doesn't know what I know, that Kerbstone, the treasurer of the Mills, is in the street every day, looking like a gambler when his last dollar is on the table. A few more turns of the screw and down goes Kerbstone. Who knows that the Mills won't tumble, too, and Bullion after them? He may go hang; but we must look after Stearine, and prop him, unnecessary.
So far as he could see there was no light nor any glimmer of one. He reached the corner of the street like a blind man, by tapping the kerbstone with his cane. Arrived here, he stood for a moment in the middle of the road, bareheaded. There was not a breath of wind anywhere. He made his way carefully down towards Downing Street, meeting few people, and still obliged to grope rather than walk.
All alike were conspicuous for a rather wilful slovenliness, for smooth faces and bushy hair, while the numerous girls, with whom they paused to laugh and trifle, were, for the most part, showy in dress and loudly vivacious in manner. On the kerbstone, a knot of the latter, tittering among themselves, shot furtive glances at Dove and Maurice as they passed.
A very small, pale, and filthy boy stood with bare feet upon the kerbstone, and cried damp matches. "How horrible London is to-night," Julian said as he and Valentine got into their cab. "Yes. Why add to our necessary contemplation of its horrors? Why go on this mad errand?" "I want you to see Marr," Julian replied, with a curious obstinacy. He pushed up the trap in the roof.
He believed strongly in luck. He had always believed in it. The smoke of the cigarette displayed his confidence to all Piccadilly. Still, his heart was thumping. And it had not ceased to thump when a few minutes later he turned into Manresa Road. Opposite the entrance to the alley of Romney Studios, there happened to be a small hiatus in the kerbstone.
Their hansom stopped in front of a large and gaily lit-up mansion, with an awning leading to the door, and a cluster of carriages and footmen by the kerbstone. They entered, and having divested themselves of their coats, Mr Bunker proposed that they should immediately seek the supper-room. “Bot should I not be first introduced to mine hostess?” asked the Baron.
"Come inside and look at it," ses Emma, taking 'old of his arm. "Not me," ses Charlie, hanging back. "Why, I wouldn't take it at a gift." He stood there on the kerbstone, and all they could do 'e wouldn't budge. He said it was a bad road and a little shop, and 'ad got a look about it he didn't like.
The horses would get excited, and the pace would increase. It was all very well if the village street was a straight one, but if there was an angle in it the horses would take it too short, and there would be a violent collision with the kerbstone at the corner. Then all the wheelwrights and all the innkeepers, ever on the watch for such mishaps, would hurry up.
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