Now you're up, take this spike. Your name?" "Owen Wood," replied the carpenter; "I've no reason to be ashamed of it. ” “Right!” he answered. 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. . . ’ ‘I like that,’ Gerald protested.
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