’ Ignoring this, the major slipped his hands about her waist and lifted her to her feet. Her name, he said, was as pretty as its wearer. Her personal maidservant, the first she had ever had in her life, was joyful for her. 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. But her temper almost flared again when the sergeant spoke.
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