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. At the least, the tales had the ability to make her forget where she was; which was something in their favour. Taking the wind was her business in life. “What you have done. Nor was Jack by any means the only stripling in the room. ’ He paused for the effect of his words to sink in, and then added, ‘Don’t be so ready to show hackle. ” Hill looked up at him, an unkempt, rough-looking object, with broken collar, tumbled hair, and the blood slowly dripping from his face. The man himself was not a pleasant object. .
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