Ann Veronica pushed aside a tea-cup and the vestiges of her strawberries and cream, and put her elbows before her on the table. 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. " "For every hurt she has, I shall have two. This niggardliness compelled him to cross and recross streets. “I have nothing to say to you. At table he carved in a gloomy but resolute manner. Not much to his surprise, Jack Kimble shook his head. I don’t know why that should be so acutely humiliating. “I love you, Ann Veronica. He began munching his water-chestnuts—a small brown radish-shaped vegetable, with the flavour of coconut—that grow along the river brims.
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