The shot had taken effect upon the waterman who rowed the chase. 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. “We have,” he said, “to be the utmost friends. That was the wonder of these stories; one lived in them. She had not seen him in two and a half centuries. If you don’t like it, I won’t be mad, I promise. The parlour was cluttered but cosy. She saw now that it was not a dissipated face; it was as smooth and unlined as polished marble, which at present it resembled.
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