I designed this story, and, indeed, began to write it, between the publication of _Tales of Mean Streets_ and that of _A Child of the Jago_, to be read together with those books: not that I pretend to figure in all three--much less in any one of them--a complete picture of life in the eastern parts of London, but because they are complementary, each to the two others. THE afternoon had slumbered in the sun, but now the August air freshened with an awakening breath, and Epping Thicks stirred and whispered through a myriad leaves. Far away beyond the heaving greenwoods distant clouds floated flat on the upper air, and a richer gold grew over the hills as the day went westward. This way and th…
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