Mr. Leonardo had told her it would happen, and warned her to make use of it. “Soon she will return. “Sold again,” she remarked. How did you meet him?’ ‘He was wounded and came to the convent for sanctuary,’ Melusine told him, stung by his criticism into revealing more than she had intended. Not much. 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. She was chaffing him about being taken for Meysey Hill, and suggested that he should be presented to me as the millionaire. Spurlock, filled with self-mockery, sat in a chair on the west veranda. ‘Believe it or not, I do it for pleasure.
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