“Dear old Daddy,” she said, “he’ll make a fearful fuss. Gerald looked at it, then at her face. Wood turned to look at him. 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. Having watched the funeral at some distance, Jonathan fancied he could discern the figure of Jack; but not being quite sure, he entered the church. At last his voice came to release her tension. Her curiosity was insatiable, her dreams filled with happy speculation over what hair color her babies would inherit.
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