The little grating in the door, the sense of constant inspection, worried her. 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. " "Mercy!" cried Mrs. Lucy entered the house by picking the back door lock with the slim jim. “You mustn’t say anything more to your mother, Michelle. The constable, Sharples, is in my pay. " "Conscious; well, that's good news. “I know the place you mean—very good cooking for such an out-of-the-way show. "And now, farewell, Mr. "Your worry is needless. Won’t you come and have some tea with me? There is a new place in Bond Street,” he hastened to say, “where everything is very well done, and they give us music, if that is any attraction to you. " "So it seems," observed the woollen-draper, "and for every one else, too. Every now and then something familiar in her tone, the poise of her head, the play of her eyes startled him.
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