In every one of these thoroughfares my mood and my manner are
differently affected. In Hill Street, instinctively, I walk very
slowly--sometimes, even with a slight limp, as one recovering from an
accident in the hunting-field. I feel very well-bred there, and,
though not clever, very proud, and quick to resent any familiarity
from those whom elsewhere I should regard as my equals. In Pont Street
my demeanour is not so calm and measured. I feel less sure of myself,
and adopt a slight swagger. In High Street, Kensington, I find myself
dapper and respectable, with a timid leaning to the fine arts. In High
Street, Notting Hill, I become frankly common. Fleet Street fills me
with a conviction that if I don't make haste I shall be jeopardising
the national welfare. The Strand utterly unmans me, leaving me with
only two sensations: (1) a regret that I have made such a mess of my
life; (2) a craving for alcohol. These are but a few instances. If I
had time, I could show you that every street known to me in London has
a definite effect on me, and that no two streets have exactly the same
effect. For the most part, these effects differ in kind according only
to the different districts and their different modes of life; but they
differ in detail according to such specific little differences as
exist between such cognate streets as Bruton Street and Curzon Street,
Doughty Street and Great Russell Street.
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