“Hey you,” he said affectionately. She bussed his cheek with her small lips as he stood by the open door, and exited alone towards the sleeping house. If it was not an actual personal lover, it still might be the lover not yet incarnate, not yet perhaps suspected. They were on their way back home, or so she had thought. 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. In the general survey of the prison, taken in the preceding chapter, but little was said of the Lodge.
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