" The girl's blood ran warmly for a minute. "Let him remain," interposed Trenchard. Spare him!—pity me!" With this she arose, and, taking up the infant, was about to proceed down stairs, when she was alarmed by hearing the street-door opened, and the sound of heavy footsteps entering the house. 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. I did what I could to comfort her but she died in terrible pain. It is better as it is. He noticed the two chairs close together. A married man!—the kind I've never been able to lure down there! But keep your temper in check.
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