‘He is not in England, you understand. 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. ‘But tell me this instead. Today you shall promise me that you will pull no more of these stunts. " "I must now go and look after Thames," observed the carpenter. "Quilt Arnold called this morning to say so. He had a quick, shrewd, merry eye, and a look in which duplicity was agreeably veiled by good humour.
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