"What is your name?" To-day, however, he broke the monotony. How did you like Tristan?” Ann Veronica paused the fraction of a second before her reply came. Ann Veronica’s tense nerves started, and she stood still with her eyes upon him, wondering what it might be that impended. The chief scene of these disgusting orgies,—the cellar, just referred to,—was a large low-roofed vault, about four feet below the level of the street, perfectly dark, unless when illumined by a roaring fire, and candles stuck in pyramidal lumps of clay, with a range of butts and barrels at one end, and benches and tables at the other, where the prisoners, debtors, and malefactors male and female, assembled as long as their money lasted, and consumed the time in drinking, smoking, and gaming with cards and dice. “I think that’s the right name.
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