I can see it puffickly from 'ere." The cabman seemed appeased, but his tone was still remonstrative.
We all looked at the door with the brass plate.

It was flanked on one side by the offices of a house agent, on the other by a superior looking restaurant.
"There isn't the sign of a tailor about the premises," said poppa, "except his name.

I don't like the look of that." "Perhaps," suggested momma, "it's his private address." "Well, I guess we don't want to call on Marcus, especially as we've got no proper introduction.

Driver, that isn't Mr.Trippit's place of business.

It's his home." We all craned up at the hole in the roof at once, like young birds, and we all distinctly saw the driver smile.
"No, sir, I don't think 'e'd put it up like that that 'e was a tyler, not on 'is privit residence, sir.