Now he would not visit her; he would not write.

If she wished to see him again, let her acknowledge the wrong she had done him.
As for the muddle about her husband, be hanged to it! He would think no more about the business.

Ten to one this address that Polly had obtained would be quite useless.

How could he go to strangers (named Gildersleeve) and coolly inquire of them whether they knew a man named Clover?
Of course they would have him kicked into the street, and Serve him right.
Polly and her boy! A young City clerk, eh?
Old enough to wear a chimney-pot, he'd be bound.

Polly was fond of chimney-pots.