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. If you noticed, our house is fairly close to the road. “But who’s going to pay for the room?” “I’ve got money,” said Ann Veronica. She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed.
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