So she went to Ramage and came to the point almost at once. For a long time he remained standing before the fire, staring at the situation. It began to rain, a cold sweat of precipitation that was more sickly than refreshing. 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 thought of his severe attitude towards the girl who was rightly and with contempt refusing his measured help. ‘There is no question of a dispute.
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