On the right of the postern against the wall was affixed a small grating, sustaining the debtor's box; and any pleasure which the passerby might derive from contemplating the splendid structure above described was damped at beholding the pale faces and squalid figures of the captives across the bars of its strongly-grated windows. "Here, wife—hostess—fetch me that bottle from the second shelf in the corner cupboard. Kneebone's," remarked Austin, rising to fasten the door. I wonder if some of them did—and it didn’t get reported.
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