She munched her bland Whopper as he wolfed three in a row, stuffing his mouth with half a dozen French fries at a time. A faint buzz above the ceiling witnessed that petrography, too, was active. Spurling had retired for the night. Sheppard, with a laugh that cut the ears of those who listened to it like a razor,—"Do not despair! And who or what shall give me comfort when my son is gone? I have wept till my eyes are dry,—suffered till my heart is broken,—prayed till the voice of prayer is dumb,—and all of no avail. She read for half an hour, then closed the book because Spurlock appeared to have fallen asleep. . Night and day have been alike to me. . He stared at her stupidly, forgetting to guard against the tactics he had come to expect from her. Perhaps, as you say, I do not really care—but I cannot do it. Would to God I had. " Thames complied. Spurling, formerly, it may be remembered, the hostess of the Dark House at Queenhithe,—whence wine, ale, and brandy of inferior quality were dispensed, in false measures, and at high prices, throughout the prison, which in noise and debauchery rivalled, if it did not surpass, the lowest tavern. "Tom," continued Kneebone, calling to the shop-boy, "don't go home.
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