“We don’t let to ladies,” they said. There was no broken faith—not even any question of anything of the sort. Quarter-staves, bludgeons, brown-bills, lanterns, swords, and sconces were alike shivered; and, to judge from the sullied state of their habiliments, the claret must have been tapped pretty freely. Marvel was almost dislodged from his seat on the coffin by a dead dog, which was hurled against him, and struck him in the face. Immeasurable disgust possessed her. Notwithstanding the remonstrances of Wood and Winifred, Thames instantly followed the domestic, and found a man, with his face muffled up, at the door, as she had described.
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