" So saying, he descended a short spiral staircase, and, entering a long stone gallery, from which several other passages branched, took one of them, and after various turnings—for he was familiar with all the intricacies of the prison— arrived at the cell of which he was in search. “It isn’t a joke,” she said. He left that arid rule clear of the least mist of refinement or delicacy. It is extraordinary. “They have just taken this house from Lady Cellender. There are no funerals among the poor, only burials.
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