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She turned to the right, passed along the corridor by the cutting-out room, up two steps into the sheeted and shuttered gloom of the closed shop, up the showroom stairs, through the showroom, and so into the bedroom corridor. Experience had proved it easier to make this long detour than to round the difficult corner […]

Just then a hawker passed down King Street, crying mussels and cockles. "Oh!" Sophia almost shrieked. "Do let’s have mussels and cockles for tea!" And she rushed to the door, and unlocked and opened it, regardless of the risk of draughts to Mr. Povey. In those days people often depended upon the caprices of hawkers […]

Mr. Povey was certainly asleep, and his mouth was very wide open– like a shop-door. The only question was whether his sleep was not an eternal sleep; the only question was whether he was not out of his pain for ever. Then he snored–horribly; his snore seemed a portent of disaster. Sophia approached him as […]

The expectation of beneficent laudanum had enlivened Mr. Povey, had already, indeed, by a sort of suggestion, half cured his toothache. "Oh no!" he said. "No need to ask Mr. Critchlow … Two or three drops in a little water." He showed impatience to be at the laudanum. The girls knew that an antipathy existed […]

"Is your patient ready for his supper?" she asked, smiling at the strange little figure. "I have been cooking it for him." The Gadfly stood up and rolled the dirty rags together. "I’m afraid we have made a terrible mess in your room," he said. "As for these, they had better go straight into the […]