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“I think that I know very well what I am saying,” she answered. 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. She had never expected John capable of saying such things, of thinking such macabre ideas. “I imagine,” Sir John said, “that your sister would acquaint him with it. ” “You do not deny that you are my wife,” he asked hoarsely. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha.
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