‘Now let’s have it. You shall lie upon your back; your head shall be covered; and your feet shall be bare. 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. She slid her cheek down the tweed sleeve of his coat. “Then why go out with him, Michelle? Why belabor yourself?” Lucy questioned. “I know nothing whatever of his friends or his home. ‘I’m only a poor country wench, child.
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