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. "We were talking shop," said McClintock, rising. “You know,” he went on, “this doesn’t seem to me to end anything. The lady whose husband had been Mayor of Hartlepool looked at Anna and sniffed.
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