"Miss Enschede was born on an island in the South Seas. But perhaps he was right not to tell you the truth. 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. "But to drag this innocent child into the muck! With her head full of book nonsense—love stories and fairy stories! Have you any idea of the tragedy she is bound to stumble upon some day? I don't care about you. Men ought not to idealize any woman. When she occupied, it, it was neatness itself; the little porch was overrun with creepers—the garden trim and exquisitely kept. “Maybe we could swing a scholarship to Boston College for you, you know, with your violin and all.
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