So perfect was the illusion, that he could almost fancy he heard the solemn voice of the ordinary warning him that his race was nearly run, and imploring him to prepare for eternity. Built and paved with stone, without beds, or any other sort of protection from the cold, this dreadful hole, accounted the most dark and dismal in the prison, was made the receptacle of such miserable wretches as could not pay the customary fees. "Wet your whistle before you start, Jack," said Kneebone, pouring out a glass of ale. Most of the time, he was hunting and he returned at night. “It’s a matter of feeling with me. The atmosphere at dinner was not propitious. “You be off, missie,” said the fatherly policeman.
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