He seemed happy with her, finding her proper and seemly. 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. He could not kiss Ruth. Whatever anticipation Ann Veronica had formed of this vanished in the reality. You're welcome to it. This was the bitterest hour he had ever known.
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