What reassured her, however, more than anything else, was the shape of the mouth: it was warmly turned. As pretty as its owner. There was a pint of champagne and a quart of mineral water (both taboo) at his elbow. 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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