“But don’t you know about me?” he said at last. "Mr. Upon my word—you are Miss Pellissier, aren’t you?” “I certainly am,” she admitted. A pretty name for a pretty girl. 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.
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