of fish and fruit below throw up a thin line of their drift, he stood
contemplating the not unamiable, reposefully-jolly, Guelphic countenance,
from the loose jowl to the bent knee, as if it were a novelty to him;
unwilling to trust himself to the roadway he had often traversed, equally
careful that his hesitation should not be seen. A trifle more
impressible, he might have imagined the smoky figure and magnum of
pursiness barring the City against him. He could have laughed aloud at
the hypocrisy behind his quiet look of provincial wonderment at London's
sculptor's art; and he was partly tickled as well by the singular fit of
timidity enchaining him. Cart, omnibus, cab, van, barrow, donkey-tray,
went by in strings, broken here and there, and he could not induce his
legs to take advantage of the gaps; he listened to a warning that he
would be down again if he tried it, among those wheels; and his nerves
clutched him, like a troop of household women, to keep him from the
hazard of an exposure to the horrid crunch, pitiless as tiger's teeth;
and we may say truly, that once down, or once out of the rutted line, you
are food for lion and jackal--the forces of the world will have you in
their mandibles.

An idea was there too; but it would not accept pursuit.

'A pretty scud overheard?' said a voice at his ear.

'For fine!--to-day at least,' Mr. Radnor affably replied to a stranger;
and gazing on the face of his friend Fenellan, knew the voice, and
laughed: 'You?' He straightened his back immediately to cross the road,
dismissing nervousness as a vapour, asking, between a cab and a van:
'Anything doing in the City?' For Mr. Fenellan's proper station faced
Westward.