His mind was filled briefly with psychic images of a charnel house that danced like a spider in his head. You’re such a strange girl. Playing became a way of escape. ‘I do not believe you. It seemed to emanate from the back of the house. They want some fun, and there isn't any. She looked into his eyes, truly noticing their gray color for the first time. 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.
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