The space has since been converted into a flower-garden, open to the children of the neighbourhood, and in summer time the bright flower-beds enhance the ignoble baldness of the by-way.
When they had nearly reached the railway arch Ackroyd stopped.
'I'm just going in to Bower's shop,' he said; 'I've got a message for poor old Boddy.' 'Boddy ?' 'You know of him from the Trent girls, don't you ?' 'Yes, yes,' Grail answered, nodding.

He seemed about to add something, but checked himself, and, with a 'good-bye,' went his way.
Ackroyd turned his steps to a little shop close by.

It was of the kind known as the 'small general'; over the door stood the name of the proprietor--'Bower'-- and on the woodwork along the top of the windows was painted in characters of faded red: 'The Little Shop with the Large Heart.' Little it certainly was, and large of heart if the term could be made to signify an abundant stock.

The interior was so packed with an indescribable variety of merchandise that there was scarcely space for more than two customers between door and counter.

From an inner room came the sound of a violin, playing a lively air.
When the young man stepped through the doorway he was at once encompassed with the strangest blend of odours; every article in the shop--groceries of all kinds, pastry, cooked meat, bloaters, newspapers, petty haberdashery, firewood, fruit, soap--seemed to exhale its essence distressfully under the heat; impossible that anything sold here should preserve its native savour.