"This is a London particular." I had never heard of such a thing.
"A fog, miss," said the young gentleman.
"Oh, indeed!" said I.
We drove slowly through the dirtiest and darkest streets that ever were seen in the world (I thought) and in such a distracting state of confusion that I wondered how the people kept their senses, until we passed into sudden quietude under an old gateway and drove on through a silent square until we came to an odd nook in a corner, where there was an entrance up a steep, broad flight of stairs, like an entrance to a church.

And there really was a churchyard outside under some cloisters, for I saw the gravestones from the staircase window.
This was Kenge and Carboy's.

The young gentleman showed me through an outer office into Mr.Kenge's room--there was no one in it--and politely put an arm-chair for me by the fire.

He then called my attention to a little looking-glass hanging from a nail on one side of the chimney-piece.
"In case you should wish to look at yourself, miss, after the journey, as you're going before the Chancellor.

Not that it's requisite, I am sure," said the young gentleman civilly.
"Going before the Chancellor ?" I said, startled for a moment.
"Only a matter of form, miss," returned the young gentleman.