Miss Miniver looked over her glasses at her friend almost balefully. She reflected upon that with a thrill of terror that was also, somehow, in some faint remote way, gleeful. The late afternoon, en effet. Get you gone. "Hear me," he cried, restraining himself with difficulty. Unlocking several doors, he came to a dark vault, that would have rivalled the gloomiest cell in Newgate, into which he thrust Thames, and fastened the door.
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