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’ve been looking out for you,” he said. ‘Poor things. "With your friends, dear Mrs. ‘Your niece, ma’am. Top-side insurance people. But the vicomte has said that his sister may remain, but that the daughter must go. You are—or rather you were——” he corrected himself with an unpleasant little laugh, “Miss Pellissier, eh?” A little sensation followed upon his words. ‘And this is not all,’ went on the lady, evidently determined to disclose all her wrongs.
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