His exploits and escapes are in every body's mouth. 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. “Does he ever ask about me?” She asked, feeling like a cuckolded old maid.
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