" "Now for it," thought the woollen-draper, "I shall, at least, ascertain how the land lies. “I expect it is pretty well in shreds by now. One day her mother swept into the bedroom of the family townhouse, sweeping across the floor with a bundle in her arms. She responded as he slipped his hands under her sweater. 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. By the time I had recovered myself she had gone.
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