Whilst she was wondering how to frame her request for an advance, Mr. 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. She would be in the library, her favorite place, or on the bench by the colored glass window with her embroidery. " "You trusted too much to your own skill, Jack," rejoined Thames. Sheppard's weight had destroyed the equilibrium of the plank: it swerved, and slowly descended.
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