James Malcolm Rymer and Thomas Peckett Prest, The String of Pearls — Chapter 11
“ There is but one miserable light, except the occasional fitful glare that comes from the ovens where the pies are stewing, hissing, and spluttering in their own luscious gravy. There is but one man, too, throughout all the place, and he is sitting on a low three-legged stool in one corner, with his head resting upon his hands, and gently rocking to and fro, as he utters scarcely audible moans. ”
James Malcolm Rymer and Thomas Peckett Prest, The String of Pearls — Chapter 11
“ Upon my soul, they are nice, even half-cooked - delicious! I'll have another half-dozen, there are lots of them - delightful! I can't keep the gravy from running out of the corners of my mouth. Upon my soul, Mrs Lovett, I don't know where you get your meat, but it's all as tender as young chickens, and the fat actually melts away in one's mouth. Ah, these are pies, something like pies! - they are positively fit for the gods!' Mrs Lovett' s new man ate twelve threepenny pies, and then he thought of leaving off. ”
James Malcolm Rymer and Thomas Peckett Prest, The String of Pearls — Chapter 11
“ He has probably come out of a darker place than the one into which he now so cautiously creeps, for he shades the light from his eyes, as if it was suddenly rather too much for him, and then he looks cautiously round the vault, until he sees the crouched-up figure of the man whose duty it is to attend to the ovens. From that moment he looks at nothing else; but advances towards him, steadily and cautiously. It is evident that great secrecy is his object, for he is walking on his stocking soles only; and it is impossible to hear the slightest sound of his footsteps. ”
