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When they reached her rooms she stepped lightly out upon the pavement. One called Waterman's Hall, a horrible place adjoining the postern under the gate, whence, through a small barred aperture, they solicited alms from the passengers: the other, a large chamber, denominated My Lady's Hold, was situated in the highest part of the jail, at the northern extremity. Her soft brown eyes, inherited from Larry, warmed an already pretty face. “There are policemen—and buses. Fast asleep, he is.
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