She had been sitting on the bench for two and a half hours, which was uneventful except for the homeless men who begged for change. For so far she had kept it uncashed. ‘If you are not going to visit Charvill today, I’ll escort you back to the convent in Golden Square. 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. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. Then he went back to his rooms and lit a cigar. His shirt also was unbuttoned, and disclosed a neck like that of an ox, and a chest which might have served as a model for a Hercules.
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