“We don’t let to ladies,” they said. Crack went the whip, and away floundered the heavy vehicle through the deep ruts of the ill-kept road, or rather lane, (for it was little better,) which, then, led across Southampton Fields. ” She laughed gaily—and she had a way when she laughed of throwing back her head and showing her beautiful white teeth, so that mirth from her was a thing very much to be desired. The recollection was too painful, and he burst into an agony of tears. Wood's, the carpenter in Wych Street. Profligate women are never reclaimed. She wanted to turn him.
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