“I go down to the Oval now and then to watch the cricket; that’s all I know about Kennington.”
“And that’s nothing. You might as well judge West Kensington by an Earl’s Court exhibition, or a woman’s nature by her face. I think it would do you good to see more of Kennington. I can believe that to anyone who has lived there any other place on earth would seem heaven.”
“Heaven?”
“Even the other place would be an improvement.”
“You’re rather hard on Kennington, aren’t you?”
“It’s very hard on me! It stifles me. I come up to town—you see, I speak of coming up to town—every now and then, just to escape from the horrible atmosphere. There; just to breathe freely for a bit, to look at the shops, to see faces with some thoughts in them, to escape from—Kennington.”
“And do you escape?”
“Not altogether. The atmosphere there is saturating.”
“Does your husband like it?”
“He doesn’t know anything about it. Souls to save and bodies to feed, that’s his simple want in life. There are plenty of both in our neighborhood. I suppose you wouldn’t come down to see us?”