Traversing what remained of Wych Street at a rapid pace, and speeding along Drury Lane, the trio soon found themselves in Kendrick Yard. ‘You are, I think, a gentleman, no?’ Gerald bowed. There were doorways to peer into, dim cluttered holes with shadowy forms moving about, potters and rug-weavers. He was therefore obliged to use the iron bar, which he did with as much caution as circumstances would permit. Their soft, voluptuous bodies wove among each other to the faint notes of a lyre. It keeps dangling in front of my eyes. ’ Gerald frowned.
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