She should be lifted out of her narrow little life, and it should be all owing to him. 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. As Wood obeyed, his foot slipped; and, casting his eyes upon the floor, he perceived it splashed in several places with blood. Already she knew that she was overstaying her welcome. CHAPTER IX. “Were you thinking of private apartments, a boarding-house or an hotel?” she asked. "Yes; I know I look it," said O'Higgins, amiably. Not entirely.
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