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. ‘Mad as hatters!’ ‘It is you who is mad,’ mademoiselle told him crossly. Now if she sent fifteen pounds the suggestion that she had spent a five-pound note in the meanwhile would be irresistible. To be jeune demoiselle, it is not always convenient. “I know nothing about your wife. You understand me, sirrah?" "Perfectly," replied Jack.
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