They had just been taken for a week certain by two ladies who had paid in advance--those two ladies being Magdalen and Mrs.Wragge.
As soon as the mistress of the house had left the room, Magdalen walked to the window, and cautiously looked out from it at the row of buildings opposite.

They were of superior pretensions in size and appearance to the other houses in the Walk: the date at which they had been erected was inscribed on one of them, and was stated to be the year 1759.

They stood back from the pavement, separated from it by little strips of garden-ground.

This peculiarity of position, added to the breadth of the roadway interposing between them and the smaller houses opposite, made it impossible for Magdalen to see the numbers on the doors, or to observe more of any one who might come to the windows than the bare general outline of dress and figure.

Nevertheless, there she stood, anxiously fixing her eyes on one house in the row, nearly opposite to her--the house she had looked for before entering the lodgings; the house inhabited at that moment by Noel Vanstone and Mrs.Lecount.
After keeping watch at the window in silence for ten minutes or more, she suddenly looked back into the room, to observe the effect which her behavior might have produced on her traveling companion.
Not the slightest cause appeared for any apprehension in that quarter.
Mrs.Wragge was seated at the table absorbed in the arrangement of a series of smart circulars and tempting price-lists, issued by advertising trades-people, and flung in at the cab-windows as they left the London terminus.