"Aye, aye," replied Donald, "tat's ta close."
Dinmont descended confidently, then turned into a dark alley—then up a dark stair–and then into an open door. While he was whistling shrilly for the waiter, as if he had been one of his collie-dogs, Mannering looked round him, and could hardly conceive how a gentleman of a liberal profession, and good society, should chuse such a scene for social indulgence. Besides the miserable entrance, the house itself seemed paltry and half ruinous. The passage in which they stood had a window to the close, which admitted a little light during the day-time, and a villainous compound of smells at all times, but more especially towards evening. Corresponding to this window was a borrowed light on the other side of the passage, looking into the kitchen, which had no direct communication with the free air, but received in the day-time, at second hand, such straggling and obscure light
