"Arundel Stairs," replied Wood, "the nearest point to Wych Street. Fly! fly!" "Do not think of me, mother, but of yourself," cried Jack, in an agony of tears. Horrors abounded in every passageway as each turn could bring a vision of a poor woman running from her screaming plague-infested son or a bloated corpse of a rich man whose mouth lolled open, showing gaps where someone had pried out a few golden teeth. ’ ‘Perhaps you don’t, Hilary,’ Gerald said mildly, smiling at the young lady and indicating one of the wide window seats. They could no longer stay in one place. Over the sea of heads arose a black and dismal object.
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