He played variations on this theme for the better part of an hour. Rumors had it he had been a looker in his youth, all long hair and chiseled muscles, but those days were long gone. “And think, think”—her voice sank —“of the horrible coarseness!” “What coarseness?” said Ann Veronica. 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 savored the last solo, the coda. ” “The truth!” There was a brief but intense silence. They alighted at the restaurant, and stood for a moment in the passage looking into the crowded room. Bullding repeated, rather struck with the phrase. I went to the theatre that night.
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