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. Sometimes—a lonely forlorn child—she had gone to him and put her arms around his neck. Leave the rest to me. “I have been amusing myself up to now by trying to earn my living,” she replied.
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