"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. It was not that the servants could not, they simply preferred to. His face was aquiline but sweet, the years had not yet taken the blush from his cheeks and his lips were similarly rubefacient.
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