She ignored his question. Spurling, formerly, it may be remembered, the hostess of the Dark House at Queenhithe,—whence wine, ale, and brandy of inferior quality were dispensed, in false measures, and at high prices, throughout the prison, which in noise and debauchery rivalled, if it did not surpass, the lowest tavern. Pole coolies came joggling along with bobbing blocks of jade—white jade, splashed and veined with translucent emerald green. His eyes never left her face. Never any doubt of it. But this is not sufficient.
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