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. Their flitting hands were always touching. My destiny, I am afraid, is going to lead me into the ruts. "At the Black Lion in our street," replied Jack, without hesitation.
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