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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. The doctor sensed that his bolt had gone wrong, but he could not tell how or why. ’ ‘Well for him,’ remarked Captain Roding. They were in different key, they had a different timbre. In the adjacent apartment Ann Veronica found a middle-aged woman with a tired face under the tired hat she wore, sitting at a desk opening letters while a dusky, untidy girl of eight-or nine-and-twenty hammered industriously at a typewriter. Shari was snoring soundly. She was going through with that, anyhow. The work of plunder over, that of destruction commenced. Perhaps, she may tell me whose picture this is.
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