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. From the sounds of it, he was better off dead. "Heaven have mercy on his soul!" ejaculated Wood. Her mother had prepared her for everything. ’ ‘Unfair!’ echoed his junior.
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