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. ‘That is better, no?’ ‘Dieu. My only love is for my poor lost son. He went in there, and he was in there for a good half hour. A disagreeable young man, with red hair and a loose mouth, seated at the reporter’s table, was only too manifestly sketching her. And so I'll tell you what I did —" And she burst into a laugh that froze Jack's blood in his veins.
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