A tourist caravan of four pole-chairs jogged along a narrow street. This was number 13, Montague Street, familiarly spoken of in the neighbourhood as “White’s. ’ ‘For God’s sake, don’t accuse her of murder,’ begged Gerald, retrieving the lady’s hat and handing it to her, ‘or she’ll be challenging me to a duel again. It was hard to gain weight when you hated to eat. As the day wore on, the crowds diminished,—many who would not submit to the turnkey's demands were sent away ungratified,—and at five o'clock, only two strangers, Mr. Michelle looked at their reflections in the wall mirror.
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