" "Rely on me," rejoined Kneebone. “And so you have been thinking?” her father began, quoting her letter and looking over his slanting glasses at her. My friend the doctor suspected it, and so do I. 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. "I have not trusted you. But although startled and clearly afraid, there was no self-consciousness in her gaze and she was standing her ground.
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