ToC Nearly nine years after the events last recorded, and about the middle of May, 1724, a young man of remarkably prepossessing appearance took his way, one afternoon, along Wych Street; and, from the curiosity with which he regarded the houses on the left of the road, seemed to be in search of some particular habitation. Sheppard, that I fear any further anxiety might prove fatal to him. “It’s all dirt that washes off, dear, but it’s dirt. Above the work-table was a drop-light—kerosene. “No, I am alone,” she answered.
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