But its atmosphere is a shade too professional; it opens too precipitately on the unlovely and unsacred street.
Thurston Square is approached only by unfrequented ancient ways paved with cobble stones.

It is a place of garden greenness, of seclusion and of leisure.

It breathes a provincial quietness, a measured, hallowed breath as of a cathedral close.

Its inhabitants pride themselves on this immemorial calm.

The older families rely on it for the sustenance of their patrician state.