Casting a hasty glance at the old and ruinous prison belonging to the liberty of the Bishop of Winchester (whose palace formerly adjoined the river), called the Clink, which gave its name to the street, along which he walked: and noticing, with some uneasiness, the melancholy manner in which the wind whistled through its barred casements, the carpenter followed his companion down an opening to the right, and presently arrived at the water-side. “That beast of a fellow is certain to be hanging about. Girls screamed in chorus. I was afraid you wouldn't talk to me--you seem kind of shy--but I figured maybe I could still talk you into joining our study group, it goes all year. Her eyes glistened in the darkness—for light was only admitted through a small grated window—like flames, and, as she fixed them on him, their glances seemed to penetrate his very soul. He made a note of the idea and stored it away.
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