CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.
HOW I FOUND MYSELF ONCE MORE AT HAWK STREET.
In due time the doctor paid his final visit and gave me leave to return to Hawk Street.
I can't describe how strange it seemed to be walking out once more in the open air, leaning on Jack's arm, and feeling myself an active member of society.
The part of the town where Jack's lodgings were situated was new to me.
It could not have been worse than Beadle Square, but it wasn't much better.

This street was narrow and squalid and crowded, and presented no attractions either in the way of fresh air or convenience.

Still, to me, any place that harboured Jack Smith would have been more homelike than the stateliest mansion.
"By the way," said Jack, as we walked down to the office the first morning, "I suppose you don't want to go back to Beadle Square." "Not if I can help it," I said; "the only thing is, I suppose, I ought to tell my uncle.

You know he paid my lodging there." "Oh, that's all right," said Jack.

"I went down one day and saw Mrs Nash and told her what had become of you, and said she might let your bed to any one else.