The strangest life, of almost absolute loneliness.

From a certain point of Tottenham Court Road there is visible a certain garret window in a certain street which runs parallel with that thoroughfare; for the greater part of these four years the garret in question was Reardon's home.

He paid only three-and-sixpence a week for the privilege of living there; his food cost him about a shilling a day; on clothing and other unavoidable expenses he laid out some five pounds yearly.

Then he bought books--volumes which cost anything between twopence and two shillings; further than that he durst not go.

A strange time, I assure you.
When he had completed his twenty-first year, he desired to procure a reader's ticket for the British Museum.