‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. She seemed to have recovered herself as he returned, but rose as if she would go back to the saloon. The Storm VII. Sheppard. Spurling, formerly, it may be remembered, the hostess of the Dark House at Queenhithe,—whence wine, ale, and brandy of inferior quality were dispensed, in false measures, and at high prices, throughout the prison, which in noise and debauchery rivalled, if it did not surpass, the lowest tavern.
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