Never sent for the shirt. 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. He bent to her hand, and she slipped off the ring and gave it to him to examine. "You'll pardon an old woman, Miss Enschede," said Sister Prudence; "but where in this world did you get that dress?" Ruth picked up both sides of the skirt and spread it, looking down. " "That likeness is the chief cause of my misery," replied the widow, shuddering. It slipped out—as did that “she”. ‘Now,’ she said, in an imperious manner that so much reminded him of Melusine that he was obliged to suppress a grin, ‘I can see you properly.
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