I would even have taken a place as waitress in a tea shop. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. " "My death will lie at your door," remarked Jackson to the carpenter. 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. They were on their way back home, or so she had thought. What is your father's business?" The question was an impertinence, but Ruth was not aware of that.
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