Sanguine they were not. He stood up abruptly and went to the window. 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. ” He looked at her very gravely. She had suddenly become as the jewels of the Madonna, as the idol's eye, infinitely beyond his reach, sacred. ’ He reddened a little, and shuffled his feet.
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