‘I never knew it had been a church,’ he said.
‘There’s a lot of them left, really,’ said the old man, ‘though they’ve been put to other uses. Now, how did that rhyme go? Ah! I’ve got it!
‘Oranges and lemons, say the bells of St Clement’s, You owe me three farthings, say the bells of St Martin’s——‘there, now, that’s as far as I can get. A farthing, that was a small copper coin, looked something like a cent.’ ‘Where was St Martin’s?’said Winston. ‘St Martin’s? That’s still standing. It’s in Victory Square, alongside the picture gallery. A building with a kind of a triangular porch and pillars in front, and a big flight of steps.’