And he began also at times to wake at night and think about her. 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’ll go,” she vowed to the night, “or I’ll die!” She made plans and estimated means and resources. Well, I am Nigel Ennison’s sister!” “Oh!” Anna said.
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