’ Gerald gazed at her without expression. He stalked her, he stared at her, he craved her, he sidled slinking and propitiatory and yet relentlessly toward her, until at last she awoke from the suffocating nightmare nearness of his approach, and lay awake in fear and horror listening to the unaccustomed sounds of the hotel. "Shall I help you on with it, Sir?" replied the Jew, becoming suddenly respectful. She admired his backside as he fetched a blue towel from his bathroom. The evening was warm and inviting, one meant to be spent outdoors. In a moment they were in the street outside. 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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