They said no more for a moment, and each was now acutely aware of the other. 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. If you ride past the church, and mount the hill, you'll come to Neasdon and then you'll not have above half a mile to go.
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