" "I guess what share you've had in this," whispered Austin to Mrs. She reached for the door handle. His face was a little flushed perhaps, and his small, brown eyes were bright. 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. Immeasurable disgust possessed her. That bruise will answer the same purpose. There was the same airy grace of movement, the same deep brown hair and alabaster skin.
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