They were all stout ill-favoured men, attired in the regular jail-livery of scratch wig and snuff-coloured suit; and had all a strong family likeness to each other. A white house that she often found charming loomed gray and ashen, its gardens shorn for the coming winter. She could not feel her own body. ‘Jacques,’ she said, turning to the lad, and holding the habit out, ‘take this for me and leave it in the passage where we have left the lantern. Wood, in his Sunday habiliments and Sunday buckle.
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