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. She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key. He had him removed from the Condemned Hold, stripped of his fine apparel, clothed in the most sordid rags, loaded with additional fetters, and thrust into the Stone Hold,—already described as the most noisome cell in the whole prison. “We should get out of here. ‘Never.
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