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 turned back to Gerald, holding out her hand. "My name is Darrell," said the fugitive hastily. Their talk drifted to the beauty of music, and they took that up again at tea-time. I'll call it my wedding gift.
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