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. " "A short man, isn't he, about your height, Sir,—with a yellow beard, and a face as sly as a fox's?" "Hem!" replied Wood, coughing slightly to conceal a smile; "the description's not amiss. Indeed I must. She had but to choose. Spurling. But to England we will go. I doubt I hold any interest for him anymore. Poe is all right, if you don't mind nightmares. Hogarth, and Mr. But in his presence a wall of diffidence and timidity encompassed her. Perhaps her odd beauty—and that too was natural—stirred these thoughts into being.
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