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 have killed me. And yet—you millionaires should really, I think, cultivate the art of discrimination. With great difficulty, Wood forced a path through the ruins. Stanley, and went into his study.
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