” Michelle said sassily. The evenings were dulcet and soft. ‘What, miss?’ asked Jack Kimble from behind her. 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. “You must have heard—have you—oh, tell me, won’t you?” she begged.
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