l6 ANGEL PAVEMENT

princes, great bishops, have never troubled it; murders
it may have seen, but they have all belonged to private
life; and no literary masterpiece has ever been written
under one oŁ its roofs. The guide-books, the volumes
on London's byways, have not a word to say about it,
and those motor-coaches, complete with guide, that
roam about the City in the early evening never go near
it. The guide himself, who knows all about Henry the
Eighth and Wren and Dickens and is so highly educated
that he can still talk with an Oxford accent at the very
top of his voice, could probably tell you nothing about
Angel Pavement.

It is a typical City side-street, except that it is shorter,
narrower, and dingier than most. At one time it was
probably a real thoroughfare, but now only pedestrians
can escape at the western end, and they do this by de-
scending the six steps at the corner. For anything larger
and less nimble than a pedestrian, Angel Pavement is
a cul de sac, for all that end, apart from the steps, is
blocked up by Chase if Cohen: Carnival Novelties, and
not even by the front of Chase & Cohen, but by their
sooty, mouldering, dusty-windowed back. Chase & Cohen
do not believe it is worth while offering Angel Pavement
any of their carnival novelties—many of which are given
away, with a thirty-shilling dinner and dance, in the
West End every gala night—and so they turn the other
way, not letting Angel Pavement have so^much as a
glimpse of a pierrot hat or a false nose. Perhaps this
is as well, for if the pavementeers could see pierrot hats
and false noses every day, there is no telling what might
happen.

What you do see there, however, is something quite
different. Turning into Angel Pavement from that