“He has said something of the sort. Like a trollop in heat. “Do I understand you then to refuse my offer?” he asked Anna. 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. ‘Silence,’ hissed a voice in French. He stood up, apparently intending to put an arm about her, but she stepped back from him quickly. The satisfaction of cheating Death again.
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