" "Thames Ditton—is that your name?" "No," replied the boy, impatiently; "Darrell—Thames Darrell. The little pucker in her brows became more perceptible. 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. " "More blood! more blood!" cried Trenchard, passing his hand with agony across his brow. The doors of several of the wards were thrown open for these parties, and as Jack passed, he could not help glancing at the wretched inmates. ” His father interjected. There were no mourners.
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