” “Nice clean hardness, anyhow. Having ascertained that Thames was at his heels, he hurried with his ghastly burthen down Seacoal Lane. She turned about, and was persecuted by visions, half memories, half dreams, of Ramage. 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. "I'm afraid I must decline to tell you. “I truly am a vampire, John.
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