Part 8 “Why should I ever come back?” she said to herself, as she went down the staircase. The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. 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. It warms me, and lights me, and fills my world with flowers. And in this fact lay his danger. ‘Do not tell me he has escaped. “Don’t fence with me,” Anna cried fiercely. "But I shall watch night and day about Newgate, in the hope of getting him out.
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