Two minutes later I had received my marching orders, and the room was
still echoing with the slam of the door as it closed behind the
indignant form of my landlady.




Chapter 3

THE ORB
_(James Orlebar Cloyster's narrative continued)_


The problem of lodgings in London is an easy one to a man with an
adequate supply of money in his pocket. The only difficulty is to
select the most suitable, to single out from the eager crowd the ideal
landlady.

Evicted from No. 93A, it seemed to me that I had better abandon
Bohemia; postpone my connection with that land of lotus-eaters for the
moment, while I provided myself with the means of paying rent and
buying dinners. Farther down the King's Road there were comfortable
rooms to be had for a moderate sum per week. They were prosaic, but
inexpensive. I chose Walpole Street. A fairly large bed-sitting room
was vacant at No. 23. I took it, and settled down seriously to make my
writing pay.

There were advantages in Walpole Street which Manresa Road had lacked.
For one thing, there was more air, and it smelt less than the Manresa
Road air. Walpole Street is bounded by Burton Court, where the