It was approached from the street by a flight of broad stone steps, leading to a ponderous door, plated with iron, and secured on the inner side by huge bolts, and a lock, with wards of a prodigious size. Gosse were you born, and Gosse will you remain to your death. "In case he should consent—" "He never will," interrupted Winifred. “There’s morbid beauty,” said Ann Veronica. She fluttered her eyelashes, and adopted the soulful tone that served her well at times.
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