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. So, at least, thought one of two persons who were seated together in a small back-parlour of the house at Dollis Hill. Don't unman him. “I believe she’s dressing up-stairs—now.
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