Smith had never seen anything like it. Ray did not pace, he just stood. Lucy found solace in the lack of sunshine, but the November cold was over the top, even for Illinois. He was content to talk about himself, though in the back of his clever mind he already suspected that she was not offering any details about her life. 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.
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