"Put it under my pillow," he said. "Good bye, Jack! Keep up your spirits. " Mrs. Are you going to write a novel?” “Not I,” she answered gaily. Earles remarked genially. 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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