Infested by every description of vagabond and miscreant, it was, perhaps, a few degrees worse than the rookery near Saint Giles's and the desperate neighbourhood of Saffron Hill in our own time. Once a week, every Saturday, they had a little gathering from nine till the small hours, just talk and perhaps reading aloud and fruitarian refreshments—chestnut sandwiches buttered with nut tose, and so forth—and lemonade and unfermented wine; and to one of these symposia Miss Miniver after a good deal of preliminary solicitude, conducted Ann Veronica. In the grate were some charred fragments of a marriage certificate. “I don’t see why I should take it secondhand. 1. . You would be alarmed of how sulphurous it is, how sickeningly sweet. The light would betray us. There was a bare chance that he had been mistaken. ’ ‘Oh, a ruin,’ exclaimed Mrs Sindlesham, throwing up a hand. Entranced, he stared at the name.
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