I’ve never found them hostile. . She always left the table when they began to smoke. A stout wooden shutter, opening inwardly, being removed, disclosed a grating of iron bars. She was not squeamish—although the sight of the sergeant’s ominous preparations had severely tried her fortitude—but Kimble’s white face plagued her conscience. “What do you mean?” Lucy asked. On his first entrance, a prisoner, if unable or unwilling to comply with the exactions of the turnkeys, was thrust into the Condemned Hold with the worst description of criminals, and terrified by threats into submission.
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