You must forgive the poet’s license I take. 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’ve already been accepted to a couple of schools out east. She turned back into the hall. But this might be merely a figurative mode of describing his customary vigilance. Then she dropped the curtain and stepped back into the room.
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This video was uploaded to practical-tool.shop on 09-05-2024 08:15:08
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