‘Beg your pardon, ma’am, but she’s enough to try the patience of a saint. . It had felt wonderful to pick up the fiddle again. “I’ll go,” she vowed to the night, “or I’ll die!” She made plans and estimated means and resources. The lamp was spreading soot over everything and the reek of kerosene was stronger than usual. Not afraid of me, either. The coachman answered by a surly grunt, and, plying his whip with redoubled zeal, shaped his course down Dyot Street; traversed that part of Holborn, which is now called Broad Street, and where two ancient alms-houses were, then, standing in the middle of that great thoroughfare, exactly opposite the opening of Compston Street; and, diving under a wide gateway on the left, soon reached a more open space, surrounded by mean habitations, coach-houses and stables, called Kendrick Yard, at the further end of which Saint Giles's round-house was situated.
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