"No. And nobody has. But it's here. That's London, that is! Practically every house has been divided up into tenements. Used to be very well-to-do people here, you know!"
Mrs. Arb gazed at him sadly.
"It's tragic!" she said sympathetically, her bright face troubled.
"She understands!" he thought.
"Now I'll show you another sort of a square," he went on aloud. "But it's over on the other side of Farringdon Road. Not far! Not far! No distances here!"
He limped quickly along.
Coldbath Square easily surpassed even Riceyman Square in squalor and foulness; and it was far more picturesque and deeper sunk in antiquity, save for the huge, awful block of tenements in the middle. The glimpses of interiors were appalling. At the corners stood sinister groups of young men, mysteriously well dressed, doing nothing whatever, and in certain doorways honest-faced old men with mufflers round their necks and wearing ancient pea-jackets.
"I don't like this at all," said Mrs. Arb, as it were sensitively shrinking.
"No! This is a bit too much, isn't it? Let's go on to the Priory Church."
"Yes. That will be better," Mrs. Arb agreed with relief at the prospect of a Priory Church.