He was not there. "That he couldn't choose any one so agreeable to me. 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. To be alone with her, in idleness, was an intolerable thought. Wild's. And the hunter home from the hill. Just what in the world was that about? Before he could hazard a guess, Lucy looked back at him. I was the black sheep, I was hurried out of the way.
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