"Strange!" observed the Master; "I thought he'd been at my elbow all this time. To compare me to a starving pig. But if I were dying of thirst, in a desert, I would not accept a cup of water at her hands. Supper was over. She meditated long and carefully upon her letter to her father before she wrote it, and gravely and deliberately again before she despatched it. Maternal relations. He laid down the knife, and fixed a searching and distrustful gaze upon the writer, who continued his task, unconscious of anything having happened. 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.
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