"You've given me more than the amount, Sir Rowland," he said, after he had twice counted them, "or I've missed my reckoning. 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. He certainly bore inspection. In all these weeks she had not once knelt to pray. ‘Oh, are there? You are not quite alone in these adventures of yours, I take it. We did not know where to send … in case you died. Manning, with a baffling smile.
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