One glance swept across the place and it was immediately apparent that Pottiswick had not, this time, been mistaken. The Well Hole. The houses were older, the shops gloomier, and the thoroughfare narrower, it is true; but the bustle, the crowd, the street-like air was the same. “Dear me!” he said. Eyebrows knitting, she looked towards the ground a few feet away from him, guiltily.
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