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. Once over the iron spikes, Bess exhibited no reluctance to be let down on the other side of the wall. “Oh! please don’t lose yourself in a wilderness of secondary considerations,” she said. “Ye Gods!” she said at last. " So saying, he sprang, with a bound like that of a tiger-cat, against the throat of the woollen-draper. ’ ‘But you mind that I say I do not trust you. I wouldn’t even have to use very much gasoline. Then, quite insensibly, her queenliness had declined. She dressed rapidly and left the theatre without a word to any one.
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