" "Help me through at all hazards, Poll," cried Jack, straining towards the opening. ’ For a moment Gerald said nothing at all. I sha'n't cry any more. “Are you A, B, C, or D?” he asked. ‘I kissed you once, didn’t I?’ Her pulses jumped and she stared. Skirting the noble gardens of Montague House, (now, we need scarcely say, the British Museum,) the party speedily reached Great Russell Street,—a quarter described by Strype, in his edition of old Stow's famous Survey, "as being graced with the best buildings in all Bloomsbury, and the best inhabited by the nobility and gentry, especially the north side, as having gardens behind the houses, and the prospect of the pleasant fields up to Hampstead and Highgate; insomuch that this place, by physicians, is esteemed the most healthful of any in London. ’ ‘Tchah! Better a doubtful welcome here than a confounded French convent. \" \"All right.
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