” His voice sounded muffled and heavy, as if he had gone to bed. Lucy jammed her foot down onto Mark McCloskey’s forehead. 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. I hope I haven't given any unintentional offence?" said the widow, again meekly appealing to Wood. We'll see whether he'll get rid of his new bonds?" he added with a brutal laugh, which was echoed by the bystanders. A broken laugh followed the action. Chapter Seven ‘Oh, my God,’ burst from Gerald.
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