. Anyhow, that is how things are. ” “And no one else—has a key?” “I believe,” she said, “that that man must have one. " And he struck up the following ballad:— SAINT GILES'S BOWL. "I've been always true to you. 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. A door slammed.
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