She hated it, she hated the mission-house; she hated the sleek lagoon, the palms, the burning sky. It was a sort of cooking-room, with an immense fire-place flanked by a couple of cauldrons, and was called Jack Ketch's Kitchen, because the quarters of persons executed for treason were there boiled by the hangman in oil, pitch, and tar, before they were affixed on the city gates, or on London Bridge. . Anna was sitting before the fire a little distance from him—Ennison himself remained standing.
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