very patiently, until all reminiscences and anecdotes, bearing or not
bearing upon the subject, had been exhausted, and at last ventured
to inquire what discovery had been made. The truth then came out. Mrs
Nickleby had, that morning, had a yesterday's newspaper of the very
first respectability from the public-house where the porter came from;
and in this yesterday's newspaper was an advertisement, couched in the
purest and most grammatical English, announcing that a married lady was
in want of a genteel young person as companion, and that the married
lady's name and address were to be known, on application at a certain
library at the west end of the town, therein mentioned.

'And I say,' exclaimed Mrs Nickleby, laying the paper down in triumph,
'that if your uncle don't object, it's well worth the trial.'

Kate was too sick at heart, after the rough jostling she had already had
with the world, and really cared too little at the moment what fate was
reserved for her, to make any objection. Mr Ralph Nickleby offered none,
but, on the contrary, highly approved of the suggestion; neither did he
express any great surprise at Madame Mantalini's sudden failure, indeed
it would have been strange if he had, inasmuch as it had been procured
and brought about chiefly by himself. So, the name and address were
obtained without loss of time, and Miss Nickleby and her mama went off
in quest of Mrs Wititterly, of Cadogan Place, Sloane Street, that same
forenoon.

Cadogan Place is the one slight bond that joins two great extremes; it
is the connecting link between the aristocratic pavements of Belgrave
Square, and the barbarism of Chelsea. It is in Sloane Street, but not of
it. The people in Cadogan Place look down upon Sloane Street, and think
Brompton low. They affect fashion too, and wonder where the New Road