Is anybody in there ?" and she pointed to the hovel.
The man shook his head.
"How much ?" asked Pinky.
"Ten cents apiece;" and he held out his hand.
Pinky gave him thirty cents.

He took a key from his pocket, and opened the door that led into the lower room.

The stench that came out as the door swung back was dreadful.

But poor Flora Bond was by this time so relaxed in every muscle, and so dead to outward things, that it was impossible to get her any farther.

So they bore her into this horrible den, and laid her down in one of the stalls on a bed of loose straw.
Inside, there was nothing but these stalls and straw--not a table or chair, or any article of furniture.