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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. ‘Well, what was I to think, miss? Martha never wrote nothing about you, and I did ask. Sheila was a stout woman, her bosoms huge, her face 110 wide and square. She told the porter to take it to the booking-office, and it was only after a disconcerting moment or so that she found she ought to have directed him to go to the cloak-room.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 23-09-2024 11:20:41