’ Releasing her, he turned and walked swiftly towards the door. 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. He could lose himself for hours at a time. He wanted to become a millionaire. All the sombre visions she had been pressing back, fighting out of her thoughts, swarmed over the barrier and crushed her.
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