His efforts at self-destruction were, however, prevented. "I feel like work," he lied. While this was effected, intelligence was brought that a formidable mob was pouring down Field Lane, the end of which was barricaded. At last, a little way to the northward of Euston Road, the moral cloud seemed to lift, the moral atmosphere to change; clean blinds appeared in the windows, clean doorsteps before the doors, a different appeal in the neatly placed cards bearing the word ————————————— | APARTMENTS ————————————— | in the clear bright windows. I don't know anything about you. They chatted pleasantly as he drove around the neighborhood for a half an hour, then stopped by the Diedermayer house.
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