Bower seems to be going round to get men to hear him.

Do you think you'd like to go ?' 'It depends what sort of a man he is.' 'A conceited young fool, I expect.' Grail smiled.
In such conversation they passed the Archbishop's Palace; then, from the foot of Lambeth Bridge, turned into a district of small houses and multifarious workshops.

Presently they entered Paradise Street.
The name is less descriptive than it might be.

Poor dwellings, mean and cheerless, are interspersed with factories and one or two small shops; a public-house is prominent, and a railway arch breaks the perspective of the thoroughfare midway.

The street at that time--in the year '80--began by the side of a graveyard, no longer used, and associated in the minds of those who dwelt around it with numberless burials in a dire season of cholera.