"What about?" There are some houses whereof the outward aspect is sealed withthe seal of respectability-houses which inspire confidence in the minds of themost sceptical of butchers and bakers-houses at whose area-gates the tradesmandelivers his goods undoubtingly, and from whose spotless door-steps the vagabondchildren of the neighbourhood recoil as from a shrine too sacred for their gambols.Such a house made its presence obvious, some years ago, in one of the smallerstreets of that west-central region which lies between Holborn and St. PancrasChurch. It is perhaps the nature of ultra-respectability to be disagreeablyconspicuous. The unsullied brightness of No. 14 Fitzgeorge-street was a standingreproach to every other house in the dingy thorough-fare. That one spot ofcleanliness made the surrounding dirt cruelly palpable. The muslin curtains in theparlour windows of No. 15 would not have appeared of such a smoky yellow if thecurtains of No. 14 had not been of such a pharisaical whiteness. Mrs. Magson, at No.13, was a humble letter of lodgings, always more or less in arrear with the demandsof quarter-day; and it seemed a hard thing that her door-steps, whereon wereexpended much labour and hearthstone-not to mention house-flannel, which wasin itself no unimportant item in the annual expenses-should be always thrown inthe shade by the surpassing purity of the steps before No. 14.
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