Sheppard,—"pray let me go. “Why not?” He repeated, demanding. Sheppard's habitation terminated a row of old ruinous buildings, called Wheeler's Rents; a dirty thoroughfare, part street, and part lane, running from Mint Street, through a variety of turnings, and along the brink of a deep kennel, skirted by a number of petty and neglected gardens in the direction of Saint George's Fields. Perhaps she had found this new thing in life, the thing wonderful. In that sense, my strategy worked. " "May I trust you?" hesitated Thames.
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