Gerald at once rid himself of his own glass and leapt to her assistance. Sewn on that button yet?" "I've been afraid to take the coat from under the pillow. Then I came to London and tried almost everything—all failures. 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. “All right, Dunster,” he said.
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