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. No doubt she was wondering what he had done in Charvill’s house and what he intended now. Fritz flailed against his mother wildly, crying generous tears. Earles asked sharply. The occasion is worth a dash of the grape, lad.
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