He looked at her guiltily. “Mr. The family always managed to make it home for supper, even though it was a dying custom. I thought—the papers said——” “You thought that I was dead,” he interrupted. 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. The man who sat behind a pigeon-hole, and regulated the comings and goings, was for a moment absent. ” Lucy said, watching people mechanically pump quarters into the till. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination.
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