Rank ingratitude, I call it. 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. Sir John hesitated, and then continued. Make haste!" Ruth hurried off to her own room. His countenance was pale as death, but not a muscle quivered; nor did he betray the slightest appearance of fear.
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