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. The next page was a drawing that she had made in pen and ink of his face, or what she had remembered of it. For an instant, Gerald wished the rest of the world away that he might go to her and administer appropriate comfort. “I do not even know who you are. America, the land of rosy apples and snowstorms, beckoned, and she wanted to fly thitherward. " "You trusted too much to your own skill, Jack," rejoined Thames.
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