Most of the tables were for those who smoked only and drank wine, but there were a few spread with tablecloths and laid for dinner. The present divinity of the cellar was a comely middle-aged dame, almost as stout, and quite as shrill-voiced, as the Billingsgate fish-wives above-mentioned, Mrs. She had refused to eat human beings when she had first learned her fate. Wood in very characteristic attitudes, occupied a prominent place on the walls. "I'm tired of the life I'm leading. ‘She won’t confide in you? Now, why?’ ‘Because that scoundrel Leonardo drummed it into her head that no man was to be trusted,’ Gerald announced viciously. But a woman’s life is all chance. She always left the table when they began to smoke.
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