She could not help but admit that she liked being smiled at and addressed in the hallways by hordes of friendly faces. “I don’t know. Horrible doubts assailed her. 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. He's young and sound.
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