You see, my riddle is solved. ’ ‘Damnation!’ ‘What the devil ails you?’ demanded his friend, striding forward. 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. “A nice time of anxiety you’ve given me, young lady,” he said, as he entered the room. He came down the shop looking for her quite obviously, and took up a position on the other side against a mirror in which he was able to regard her steadfastly. "Don't fire," cried the latter. ‘Suppose you don’t know what sort of proof she was after?’ he asked.
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