In the heart of the jungle the dog had his private muck baths. 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. "If you thought that, why did you give me this job?"—his voice faint and thick. Recovering himself quickly his instinct of self-defence was quicker than his recollection of Anna’s presence. ‘I want a word with you, my lad.
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