To escape one phase of loneliness she had plunged into another, so vast that her courage sometimes faltered. “Good evening, Dorling,” he said. 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. The Well Hole. " "Let me have them. Mrs.
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