"I can't help thinking of it, Sir," answered the widow. 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. And it’s no good pretending there is one when there isn’t. Nothing that I desire to remember," replied Sheppard, sternly. “Anoush lied to him! She told him he was a fool as she was already married to a rich Sultan. Almost light-heartedly. I don’t understand the workings of a gentleman’s mind.
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