Robert Welles Ritchie,
'Nastasia
(1924)
“ Even though you were a born Londoner you never could find this street without a guide nor, finding it, recognize a crooked cobble lane between palsied walls as Green Arbor Walk. For there is no green; there is no arbor. Just the leprous fronts of ancient houses ranged in two close-set ranks like battered dominoes whereof the windows are the spots. Behind the street is a wilderness of railroad yards and coal dumps. Before Green Arbor Walk, over beyond a battery of chimneypots, is the Thames, oily-black, flowing with a sucking noise of the tides. ”
