Marthe has told me that the house comes to my mother, Ma—ry Re—men—ham. 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 pledged my thumb that, dead or alive, I'd pay the wager if I lost; and I should like to be as good as my word.
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