By the time I had recovered myself she had gone. Wood!—no," replied the turnkey. ’ To Gerald’s relief, the entrance of the butler interrupted them, relieving him of the necessity to explain himself. "You can generally understand that language. 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. But, you see, I’m smirched.
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