The Works of George W. M. Reynolds — page 303: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

286 THE COURT OF LONDON Nell Gibson, with one of her feet upon an old footstool, and the other resting upon the hob, while her form was thrown back with a lascivious abandonment mingled with reckless indolence. She was, however, dressed more neatly and care- fully than the girls upon the sofa, whose apparel was a mix- ture of poverty-stricken meanness and scantiness, disguised and embellished as much as possible by tawdry finery. But Nell Gibson wore a good stuff dress, cut very low in front so as to display the really fine bust which had not yet entirely lost the first freshness of youth.- Her arms, too, were bare, but they were plump and white; the hands were not only well made, but also scrupulously clean; and her well-shaped legs were provided with clean white stockings and a new pair of shoes. In fine, this young woman was altogether of a beauty that shone in remarkable contrast with the faded forms and worn-out looks of the girls upon the sofa. For, alas! although these latter females were still but mere girls as to age, yet were they old women, yes, old, old women in sad experience, and also in the waste and ruin of those charms which, even at the age of one or two and twenty, required cosmetics to conceal the ravages of dissipation. Having paid his respects to Nell Gibson and the other females, the Hangman desired Mrs. Young to produce a couple of bottles of wine; and as he threw down a guinea at the same moment, the woman bustled about with alacrity to give the necessary order. An old harridan of nearly ninety, bent double with age, and who had passed the whole of her long life in houses of crime, acted as Mrs. Young’s servant; and she was accordingly despatched to the nearest public-house to fetch the wine. When she returned and placed the bottles upon the table, the Hangman exclaimed, in a bantering tone, “‘ Halloa! Mother Franklin, are you still alive? ”’ ‘““Yes, you see I be,” answered the old hag, wagging her toothless jaws with a merry laugh. “Why, how old are you now, you witch?”’ demanded the Hangman. ‘“ Highty-nine, come next Febiverry,’’ responded the hag; “and you'll never reach that age, Mr. Coffin, for you’re doomed to go out of the world in the same way as you’ve helped a many others to quit it,’ and she laughed with a hideous cackling sound that presently merged into a choking } Gomichbooks (E(0)