"Do nothing without consulting my father—your father, Thames," she implored. 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. ’ It took several frustrating moments, working at the protrusions of the carving down the side of the bookshelves, tugging at leaves, pushing at flowers. His glance swept up again and found her staring at him with much of her usual defiance, if a touch less of her customary assurance.
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