"Restore it," he cried, in an authoritative voice. Her finger-nails dug into her flesh. And guess what? I don’t sleep much, if you haven’t noticed. ‘I should not dream of forcing my attentions on you. ’ ‘Gad, there is someone there,’ exclaimed Hilary beside him, shading his eyes with one hand. 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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