“I never wanted to kick any one so much in my life as that second fellow. Sated, he rolled off her body and retired to his quarters. “You see, father,” she said, “it isn’t only this affair of the dance. 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. The next morning came a compact letter from her father. She made no attempt to answer her sister’s question. It was interesting to see how different and characteristic his mode of approach was to all sorts of questions that interested her, and it was amusing to discover this other side to the life of a Morningside Park inhabitant. She had never experienced anything so disagreeable in her life as the sense of being held helplessly off her feet. ” “Well, why not?” Lady Lescelles asked, smiling. I understand.
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