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. Presently he reached out and laid his hand upon Spurlock's motionless shoulders. The man’s hand flashed out, but immediately afterwards an oath and a cry of pain broke from his lips. It was perfectly legitimate. Don't you hear how you've made it cry?" "Throttle the kid!" rejoined Blueskin, fiercely. He kissed her deeply and hungrily. "Ah, I see it all!" he cried, with a quick glance. "I am only fit for such as him. Here is one verse.
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