He waited until it was dark, then stole out of the house, carrying his violin.
He would not sell it, only borrow a sum at the pawn-broker's, then he could some day recover the instrument.

Nor must he go to a pawn-shop in this neighbourhood, whence tales would spread.

He stumped over into Southwark, and found a quiet street where the three brass halls hung above an illuminated shop front.

The entrance to the pawning department was beneath a dark archway.

At the door he stopped; there was a great lump in his throat, and suddenly, with great physical anguish, tears broke from his eyes.