“Oh. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. “Vee,” she said, “come home. The policy of this step was immediately apparent. "Owen, Owen," pursued Mrs. Bullding repeated, rather struck with the phrase. "I'm sorry for old Newgate that another jail should have it. There was still the pity of understanding in Ruth's eyes. There was question in Gerald’s gaze as it met hers, and apology in his voice. 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.
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