She was fine and tender. Men had tried to kiss her— unshaven derelicts, some of them terrible—but she had always managed to escape. Now you can understand why every minute is a torture to me. I was a novelty. She would be elemental; there would be in her somewhere the sleeping tigress. ’ ‘Gad, there is someone there,’ exclaimed Hilary beside him, shading his eyes with one hand. 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. As it is, I'm not sorry for the blunder.
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