God had never answered any of her prayers. ‘What am I looking for?’ ‘A miniature. ” She laughed. “I wrote it for you. 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. An extra pair of gym clothes materialized within fractions of a second.
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