This smile was more harrowing even than her former rigid look. ‘I’ll take wine,’ the lady said briefly, turning back instantly to Hilary. I doubt I hold any interest for him anymore. Love was joy, and joyous she was when alone. 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 patted the hand on his sleeve. All the rest is humbug and delicacy. Better take these sandwiches.
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