I tell you what, Mr. "Never mind," replied the tapstress. A common rage flushed their faces. One glance swept across the place and it was immediately apparent that Pottiswick had not, this time, been mistaken. Assessing him as harmless, she had remained friendly, albeit aloof. You don’t understand the fix I am in. The prison was two stories high, with a flat roof surmounted by a gilt vane fashioned like a key; and, possessing considerable internal accommodation, it had, in its day, lodged some thousands of disorderly personages. The carpet was a quiet drugget and not excessively worn, and the bed in the corner was covered by a white quilt.
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