She followed Oxford Street into Holborn, and then she inquired for Chancery Lane. “Bother it all!” she swore. The houses were older, the shops gloomier, and the thoroughfare narrower, it is true; but the bustle, the crowd, the street-like air was the same. "Where is it?" "Are you the mother of this child?" inquired the person who had first spoken, addressing Mrs. “She told you that?” “Yes. Through fire and water, through penury and pestilence, your hand will always be on his shoulder. “Who did you live with before the Becks? I hear things. You don’t understand, Lucy, they just aren’t like that.
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