He had brought the shrubs down from Syria, and, strangely enough, they had prospered. “I had no idea that it was so abominably late. 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. The little grating in the door, the sense of constant inspection, worried her. ‘It weren’t my wish, miss, I can tell you that. Capes looked at one and not over one, spoke to one, treated one as a visible concrete fact.
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