” Lucy blinked from the winter sunlight and reached behind herself to yank at her hood. "Then I presume you've not been arrested?" "I have not," answered Wood firmly. 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. “Agreed,” he said, “certainly,” and drew a checkbook toward him.
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