"Do you think I would take a harlot to my bed, if it didn't suit my purposes to do so?" "He says right," replied Mrs. " "My turn comes before yours, Sir," interposed his better half. ” He digested her statement as part threat and part promise. Spurling, for so was she named, had a warm nut-brown complexion, almost as dark as a Creole; and a moustache on her upper lip, that would have done no discredit to the oldest dragoon in the King's service. The windows were small, and strongly grated, looking, in front, on Kendrick Yard, and, at the back, upon the spacious burial-ground of Saint Giles's Church. I know how bad it feels.
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