“Were you ever in love, aunt?” she asked. Notwithstanding the heat of the season,—which was not, however, found particularly inconvenient in this subterranean region,—a large heaped-up fire blazed ruddily in one corner, and lighted up a circle of as villanous countenances as ever flame shone upon. The man, who was just able to move, pointed towards Giltspur-street. “Concern me!” she repeated fiercely. "I have not many days,—perhaps, not many hours to live.
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