My son wanted to marry a woman of thirty in a tobacconist’s shop. "Enough!" exclaimed Wild, triumphantly. On the floor was a handkerchief, a little morsel of lace. 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.
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