The procession had just got into line of march, when a dreadful groan, mixed with yells, hootings, and execrations, was heard. Lucy looked at the stains on the threadbare carpeting to distract herself, embarrassed to her core. Strongly impregnated with the mingled odours of tobacco, ale, brandy, and other liquors, the atmosphere was almost stifling. I meant to lie to you.
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