‘No, no, Jacques, you have done very right. 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. ‘You speak as if you expected to meet her again, Gerald. He'll be brought out at this door, and may probably make some resistance. Immediately the "boy" went forth with his paper lantern, repeating a cry as he ran—warning to clear the way. ‘Hilary was right. “My sister,” she murmured, “is so independent. She had dreaded the beginning of this hour.
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