Chapter VII

He persists in indulging his melancholy, and so creeps, "like a guilty thing," at early morning to the door of the house in London where Hallam had lived--Wimpole Street--but this only serves to remind him that

"He is not here; but far away."

The revival of busy movement on a wet morning in "the long unlovely street,"[8] is vividly described--

"The noise of life begins again,
And ghastly thro' the drizzling rain
On the bald street breaks the blank day."