"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. The concourse extended along Giltspur Street as far as Smithfield. I never hunt the human tiger without being armed. Athens was heaven on earth, and those who inhabited it knew it was so, and savored it. You mustn't go dressing up Tom, Dick, and Harry in Henry Esmond's ruffles. “I don’t understand. The room was papered with green, large-patterned paper that was at worst a trifle dingy, and the arm-chair and the seats of the other chairs were covered with the unusual brightness of a large-patterned chintz, which also supplied the window-curtain.
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