She realized that no man had ever placed a mantle of respect upon her as Sebastian did; respect for more than just her pretty face and her now lost ability to bear children. 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. Even the basest objects sold in the 24 roadside shops were beautiful in some way. The floor was planked with oak, and covered with iron staples, hooks, and ringbolts, with heavy chains attached to them. "I had no hand in the affair," replied Jackson, bluntly; "but I know those who had; and could bring forward evidence, if you require it. She practiced swaddling on a doll, pretending to pat the head of her imaginary infant boy. "It is addressed to my mother," he added, as his eye glanced rapidly over it, "and by my father.
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