He remembered the shop distinctly; it was next door to a trunk-seller's, and there was a cigar shop on the other side.

He couldn't go to his hotel for dinner, which to him hitherto was the only known mode of dining in London at his own expense; and, therefore, he would get a steak at the shop in the Strand.

Archdeacon Grantly would certainly not come to such a place for his dinner.
He found the house easily,--just as he had observed it, between the trunks and the cigars.

He was rather daunted by the huge quantity of fish which he saw in the window.

There were barrels of oysters, hecatombs of lobsters, a few tremendous-looking crabs, and a tub full of pickled salmon; not, however, being aware of any connection between shell-fish and iniquity, he entered, and modestly asked a slatternly woman, who was picking oysters out of a great watery reservoir, whether he could have a mutton chop and a potato.
The woman looked somewhat surprised, but answered in the affirmative, and a slipshod girl ushered him into a long back room, filled with boxes for the accommodation of parties, in one of which he took his seat.