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. His throat filled; he wanted to weep. "Stow it, Nab!" exclaimed Quilt, angrily; "the kinchen's awake. He rang the doorbell, even though she had already cracked the door for him. Anna nodded as she briskly crossed the pavement. One can't help being jealous, you know, even of an unworthy object.
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