Pity he's ta'en to bad ways so airly. She was not a reversion to type, which intimates the primordial; she suggested rather the incarnation of some goddess of the South Seas. She laughed till the tears stood in her eyes. 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.
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