The watchers agreed, that as
soon as it was likely Mr. Carson would be up and visible, Wilson
should go to his house, and beg for an Infirmary order. At length
the grey dawn penetrated even into the dark cellar. Davenport
slept, and Barton was to remain there until Wilson's return; so,
stepping out into the fresh air, brisk and reviving, even in that
street of abominations, Wilson took his way to Mr. Carson's.
Wilson had about two miles to walk before he reached Mr. Carson's
house, which was almost in the country. The streets were not yet
bustling and busy. The shopmen were lazily taking down the
shutters, although it was near eight o'clock; for the day was long
enough for the purchases people made in that quarter of the town,
while trade was so flat. One or two miserable-looking women were
setting off on their day's begging expedition. But there were few
people abroad. Mr. Carson's was a good house, and furnished with
disregard to expense. But, in addition to lavish expenditure, there
was much taste shown, and many articles chosen for their beauty and
elegance adorned his rooms.
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