“I have not quarrelled with her. Lucy’s guts ached with jealousy and bitterness, building in a knot that twisted in her stomach, rag-like. She heard them diving after her, and noted their starting eyes as they spied the opened panel. 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.
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