And the gloom was like the gloom of villainous slums, of misery, of wretchedness, of a starved and degraded existence.

It was a relief that I could see only their shabby hopeless backs.

He was an awful ghost.

But indeed to call him a ghost was only a refinement of polite speech, and a manner of concealing one's terror of such things.

Prisons are wonderful contrivances.