Between Hendon and Willesden, there are pastoral solitudes within an hour's drive of Oxford Street--wooded lanes and wild-flowers, farms and cornfields, still unprofaned by the devastating brickwork of the builder of modern times.

Following winding ways, under shadowing trees, the coachman made his last inquiry at a roadside public-house.

Hearing that Benjulia's place of abode was now within half a mile of him, Ovid set forth on foot; leaving the driver and the horses to take their ease at their inn.
He arrived at an iron gate, opening out of a lonely lane.
There, in the middle of a barren little field, he saw Benjulia's house--a hideous square building of yellow brick, with a slate roof.

A low wall surrounded the place, having another iron gate at the entrance.
The enclosure within was as barren as the field without: not even an attempt at flower-garden or kitchen-garden was visible.

At a distance of some two hundred yards from the house stood a second and smaller building, with a skylight in the roof, which Ovid recognised (from description) as the famous laboratory.