“And think, think”—her voice sank —“of the horrible coarseness!” “What coarseness?” said Ann Veronica. A pair of long-lashed blue eyes studied them both as she slowly brought her hands down to rest by her sides. "At a place we call the Dark House at Queenhithe," answered Jonathan, "a sort of under-ground tavern or night-cellar, close to the river-side, and frequented by the crew of the Dutch skipper, to whose care he's to be committed.
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