But that bridge was more remarkable than any the metropolis now possesses. He was confined in the Middle Stone Ward, a spacious apartment, with good light and air, situated over the gateway on the western side, and allotted to him, not for his own convenience, but for that of the keepers, who, if he had been placed in a gloomier or more incommodious dungeon, would have necessarily had to share it with him. “John! Welcome! Happy Thanksgiving!” Cathy cried, ushering him deeper into the house. Anna was singing as she used to sing.
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