“Splendid you are looking to-day, Miss Stanley,” he said. Just as Hogarth got to the door, the turnkey stopped him. Pottiswick had mentioned muttering. He felt he was human wisdom prudentially interpolated. Turning off again on the left, down Seacoal Lane, they arrived at the mouth of a dark, narrow alley, into which they plunged; and, at the farther extremity found a small yard, overlooked by the blank walls of a large gloomy habitation.
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