She prevaricated. After some time, the scuffle grew more and more distant, until nothing could be heard. She had seen Mrs. Then she threw the volume away with a little impatient exclamation. And you think I would marry you?’ ‘Why not? I am unworthy, eh? Because I am a servant. ” “Not worth the trouble. Turning now, and running down the terrace. 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. At the back of the house, on a bank, rose an old-fashioned terrace-garden, full of apple-trees and other fruittrees in blossom, and lively with the delicious verdure of early spring. “You propose, then,” she remarked, “that I shall still be saddled with a pseudo husband.
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