"Your faults were the faults of circumstances. “David Courtlaw!” she repeated. . It must be my fault that you have not learnt that your husband is the man to come to—at such a time as this. This light did not remain stationary, but could be seen at one moment glimmering through the rents in the roof, and at another shining through the cracks in the wall, or the broken panes of the casement. Above this revolting spot was the female debtor's ward; below it a gloomy cell, called Tangier; and, lower still, the Stone Hold, a most terrible and noisome dungeon, situated underground, and unvisited by a single ray of daylight. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: 1. And all to satisfy a succession of rapacious lightskirts.
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