A man might be without relatives, but certainly he would not be without friends, that is to say, without letters. But that was soon put right, and she walked out into London with a peculiar exaltation of mind, an exaltation that partook of panic and defiance, but was chiefly a sense of vast unexampled release. ‘But you do not understand, mon ami. This time she feinted as his point came up to deflect her own, and disengaging, passed under and cut at his cheek. Her eyes flashed. The coachman answered by a surly grunt, and, plying his whip with redoubled zeal, shaped his course down Dyot Street; traversed that part of Holborn, which is now called Broad Street, and where two ancient alms-houses were, then, standing in the middle of that great thoroughfare, exactly opposite the opening of Compston Street; and, diving under a wide gateway on the left, soon reached a more open space, surrounded by mean habitations, coach-houses and stables, called Kendrick Yard, at the further end of which Saint Giles's round-house was situated. Groups of boys took to ogling her as she walked frenetically from class to class.
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