"Boy, look out of the window. Is there anywhere in the world a youth spouting verse on a street corner?"
"No," said Lewis.
"Or an orator shooting himself to give point to an impassioned speech?"
"No."
"Or women shaking their bangles into the melting-pot for the cause of freedom?"
"No."
"I should say not. This is Sunday in London. Take off your hat. You are in the graveyard of all the emotions of the earth."
Up one flight of stairs, over a tobacconist's shop, Leighton raised and dropped the massive bronze knocker on a deep-set door. He saw Lewis's eyes fix on the ponderous knocker.
"Strong door to stand it, eh? They don't make 'em that way any more."
The door swung open. A man-servant in black bowed as Leighton entered.