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"I would treat him as you treated his father, Sir Rowland. Could it be him you mean?" "No. 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. Then she went into the office. Art was everywhere, underfoot in the form of mosaics, overhead in the form of architecture.
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