“He is Annabel’s husband,” she reminded him. 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. He has helped me out of scrapes though, no end of times. This too shall pass. It had neither succumbed to her nor wrathfully overwhelmed her. . There was nothing on her face to hint of the misery that brimmed her heart this morning. The young lady—if she had come in here at all—had vanished.
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