WEhaddawdledoverourluncheonbeforeMrs。MacallanarrivedatBenjamin’scottage。Theensuingconversationbetweentheoldladyandmyself（ofwhichIhaveonlypresentedabriefabstract）
lasteduntilquitelateintheafternoon。Thesunwassettinginheavycloudswhenwegotintothecarriage，andtheautumntwilightbegantofallarounduswhilewewerestillontheroad。
Thedirectioninwhichwedrovetookus（aswellasIcouldjudge）towardthegreatnorthernsuburbofLondon。
Formorethananhourthecarriagethreadeditswaythroughadingybricklabyrinthofstreets，growingsmallerandsmalleranddirtieranddirtierthefurtherwewent。Emergingfromthelabyrinth，Inoticedinthegatheringdarknessdrearypatchesofwastegroundwhichseemedtobeneithertownnorcountry。
Crossingthese，wepassedsomeforlornoutlyinggroupsofhouseswithdimlittlescatteredshopsamongthem，lookinglikelostcountryvillageswanderingonthewaytoLondon，disfiguredandsmoke—driedalreadybytheirjourney。Darkeranddarkeranddrearieranddreariertheprospectdrew，untilthecarriagestoppedatlast，andMrs。Macallanannounced，inhersharplysatiricalway，thatwehadreachedtheendofourjourney。