With beating heart she entered the house, the door of which was open.

She met an old woman descending a rickety tortuous staircase and stopped her.
"Can you tell me if Mr.Vane lives here ?" said she.
"Well, he do an' he don't," squeaked the old dame.

"Leastways he won't be here much longer.

He's a bein' turned out 'cause he can't pay his rent, pore young gentleman.

We're all sorry for him, so civil spoken and nice to everybody, not a bit like some o' them scribblers as do nothing but drink gin day an' night.