We have come to the conclusion, Brendon and I, that Mrs. He went to Harvard instead. The chief scene of these disgusting orgies,—the cellar, just referred to,—was a large low-roofed vault, about four feet below the level of the street, perfectly dark, unless when illumined by a roaring fire, and candles stuck in pyramidal lumps of clay, with a range of butts and barrels at one end, and benches and tables at the other, where the prisoners, debtors, and malefactors male and female, assembled as long as their money lasted, and consumed the time in drinking, smoking, and gaming with cards and dice. She was too wrapped up in the sheer joy of playing again; it had 201 been intimate, masturbatory. It was maddening to be made to feel that he was in any way the inferior of this cool, self-possessed young woman, whose eyes seemed for a moment to scintillate with scorn. Coming from the gloom of the passage, even the corridors seemed sufficiently illuminated for them to see their way.
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