What can be said of present day society, when so many stand callously by? [Rev. A. E., Letter to Newcastle Courant, 27 November 1731] The spirit had told me the truth. Hugh was leaning against the wall of the breeches shop and scowling, looking like the sort of fellow you’d cross the street to be away from. “Hugh,” I said, glancing across the street at the leather shop. “Why are you haunting John Holloway?” “Because she is.” “The maid?” He seemed to slide lower against the wall. “God, she leads a dull life, Charles! Cooking, cleaning, shopping – the highlight of her life is staring at ribbons in shop windows. Oh, and at the engravings of rich ladies prancing in the streets of London.” “Damn London. Why are people so obsessed with it?” I leant beside Demsey and we stared at the façade of John Holloway’s house, ancient and timbered, slightly leaning, touched by the last of the sun.
