” She said. The windows were grated, the doors barred; each room had the name as well as the appearance of a cell; and the very porter who stood at the gate, habited like a jailer, with his huge bunch of keys at his girdle, his forbidding countenance and surly demeanour seemed to be borrowed from Newgate. Her situation was perplexing her very much, and the Widgett atmosphere was lax and sympathetic, and provocative of discussion. Where's Marvel?" "Here, Sir," replied the executioner. .
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