One Friday afternoon, in this pleasant month, it chanced that Mr. Probably she was married years ago and is now merely on the way to her husband's house. 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. “This stirs one. ‘How much does he know?’ Without waiting for a reply, she turned narrowed eyes on Gerald.
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