It also bore an evil name because a night murder or two had been committed in its murky seclusion.

Paul knew the exact spot, an ugly cavity toward the gasworks end, where a woman had been "done in," and even he, lord of the brickfield, preferred to remain at a purifying distance.

But it was his own domain.
He felt in it a certain pride of possession.

The hollow under the lee of the rubbish-heap, by the side of the hole where he kept his paper library, was the most homelike place he knew.
For many years he remembered that day.

The light that never was on sea or land fell upon the brickfield.