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 The spinsters were not kind; they were only curious because she was odd and wore a dress thirty years out of date. “You are really a good Samaritan,” she declared. " "Very well, sir. He found the door ajar, and, to his surprise, perceived little Winifred seated at a table, busily engaged in tracing some design upon a sheet of paper. Half French. “Sure, but it’s not like you’re married, you know. If this is the young lady, she can perhaps calm him.
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