His name was Marvel, and his avocation, which was as repulsive as his looks, was that of public executioner. ‘Do you not understand that I can trust no one—no one?’ ‘That is a pity,’ Gerald said, rising to face 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. ” Jane was taken aback by Lucy’s weird candor. My servant.
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