He lost control of the machine, was upset and nearly killed. She reminded him of his linnet, when he gave the bird the freedom of the house: it became filled with a wild gaiety which bordered on madness. “Please have a seat. 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. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. She climbed on top of him and straddled him, reinserting his penis inside her. If she had once known him, if he were some former neighbour, it would be comprehensible. There was still the pity of understanding in Ruth's eyes. His sister followed.
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