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—Strype's Stow. Retribution has a queer way of acting sometimes. He was conscious of a peculiar pleasure in sitting there and thinking of those few hours which already were becoming to assume a definite importance in his mind—a place curiously apart from those dry-as-dust images which had become the gods of his prosaic life. Then she saw him. 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. "Stop a minute," cried Jack, detaining his mistresses. " "Graves. I want you to hold me and have me SO. " "Who are you?" ejaculated Trenchard, scarcely able to credit his senses.
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