What reassured her, however, more than anything else, was the shape of the mouth: it was warmly turned. Like the parrot, she could memorize the lines, but she could not understand them. She drank her glass of wine, however, and clanked glasses good-naturedly with Mr. 1. The Widgett mental furniture was perhaps worn and shabby, but there it was before you, undisguised, fading visibly in an almost pitiless sunlight. It was approached from the street by a flight of broad stone steps, leading to a ponderous door, plated with iron, and secured on the inner side by huge bolts, and a lock, with wards of a prodigious size.
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