She thought of how tired she was, how exhausted, how hungry. Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud. It was approached from the street by a flight of broad stone steps, leading to a ponderous door, plated with iron, and secured on the inner side by huge bolts, and a lock, with wards of a prodigious size. “Do come and see the Michaelmas daisies at the end of the garden,” said Mr.
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