He went to the door. "Stop a minute," cried Jack, detaining his mistresses. In the periphery of her vision, she saw the door pulled back. She felt that she became more familiar with the floor during the time that he stayed than with any particular person. Lucy felt her eyes misting up, turning traitor. It'll be your own fault if you don't soon get another and a proper young man into the bargain. 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. Whatever he wrote he was: he became this or that character, he suffered or prospered equally.
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