The lunches were individual affairs: sandwiches, bottled olives and jam commandeered from the Victoria. She knew that the next time he caught her she would not be able to free herself. And she was as shrewd as they come. There was a moment’s breathless and disappointed silence. It was not a hard face, but it was resolute. 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.
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