She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. “Is Larry already in bed?” Cathy nodded yes. "No; we never had one; at least, I never saw it. " "I didn't want it," replied Jack; "but who are those gentlemen?" "Friends of yours," replied Figg; "come to see you;—Sir James Thornhill, Mr. On the left lay the heights of Hampstead, studded with villas, while farther off a hazy cloud marked the position of the metropolis.
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