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. "Do you know what you make me think of?" "What?" "As if you had stepped out of some old family album. Everything was blurred. ‘Where’s the sense in running away?’ ‘Doesn’t trust me,’ Gerald said briefly. . Her hair had become so matted that Sebastian had sheared it off, which made her the very mirage of a nubile young boy.
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