The chief scene of these disgusting orgies,—the cellar, just referred to,—was a large low-roofed vault, about four feet below the level of the street, perfectly dark, unless when illumined by a roaring fire, and candles stuck in pyramidal lumps of clay, with a range of butts and barrels at one end, and benches and tables at the other, where the prisoners, debtors, and malefactors male and female, assembled as long as their money lasted, and consumed the time in drinking, smoking, and gaming with cards and dice. The miserable woman staggered, uttered a deep groan, and fell senseless on the straw. It seemed to her that her father was in some inexplicable way meaner-looking than she had supposed, and yet also, as unaccountably, appealing. "Heed her not. That was the wonder of these stories; one lived in them. His foot touched the rounded edge of the starling, and glanced off, precipitating him into the water. Will you let your servant call me a hansom,” she continued, opening the door before he could reach her side. ’ Exasperated, Gerald glared at her. "That's all right.
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