He walked to the end, where a wall stopped him, and, still in the centre of the road, he walked the whole length back.
The children stared at his tall figure with indifference; they evidently felt that he was not of those who, like themselves, had no to-morrow.
No.

1, Hound Street, abutting on the garden of a house of better class, was distinctly the show building of the street.

The door, however, was not closed, and pulling the remnant of a bell, Hilary walked in.
The first thing that he noticed was a smell; it was not precisely bad, but it might have been better.

It was a smell of walls and washing, varied rather vaguely by red herrings.

The second thing he noticed was his moonlight bulldog, who stood on the doorstep eyeing a tiny sandy cat.