Lucy had caught it when it was a millimeter away from hitting her teeth. Skirting the noble gardens of Montague House, (now, we need scarcely say, the British Museum,) the party speedily reached Great Russell Street,—a quarter described by Strype, in his edition of old Stow's famous Survey, "as being graced with the best buildings in all Bloomsbury, and the best inhabited by the nobility and gentry, especially the north side, as having gardens behind the houses, and the prospect of the pleasant fields up to Hampstead and Highgate; insomuch that this place, by physicians, is esteemed the most healthful of any in London. This is my last week at the ‘Unusual,’ you know. You're an angel of goodness. This double buffetting had sharpened her shrewdness and insight. There was a murmur or two among the watchers on the bench, but no one ventured to intervene again.
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