Low, savagely. "For the present I can have nothing
more to say to him." "But neither now nor ever," said Mrs. Low, with
great emphasis; "he has been false to you." "No," said Mr. Low, who
was a man thoroughly and thoughtfully just at all points; "he has not
been false to me. He has always meant what he has said, when he was
saying it. But he is weak and blind, and flies like a moth to the
candle; one pities the poor moth, and would save him a stump of his
wing if it be possible."
Phineas, when he had written his letter to Mr. Low, started off for
Lincoln's Inn, making his way through the well-known dreary streets
of Soho, and through St. Giles's, to Long Acre. He knew every corner
well, for he had walked the same road almost daily for the last three
years. He had conceived a liking for the route, which he might easily
have changed without much addition to the distance, by passing
through Oxford Street and Holborn; but there was an air of business
on which he prided himself in going by the most direct passage, and
he declared to himself very often that things dreary and dingy to the
eye might be good in themselves. Lincoln's Inn itself is dingy, and
the Law Courts therein are perhaps the meanest in which Equity ever
disclosed herself. Mr.
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