He followed. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. And at last Ann Veronica and Miss Miniver came down the dark staircase and out into the foggy spaces of the London squares, and crossed Russell Square, Woburn Square, Gordon Square, making an oblique route to Ann Veronica’s lodging. I do not desire to extenuate my guilt—far less to defend it; but I would show you, and such as you —who, happily, are exempted from trials like mine—how much misery has to do with crime. “Slavery! Downtroddenness! When I think of it I feel all over boot marks— men’s boots. Yet he’s been here for six years, and he’s as much a fixture as that sham mahogany sideboard.
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