The aunt rushed over to her nephew, knelt and wrapped him in her arms. I think not, Annabel. Lucy stared at the girl for a long ten seconds, and then looked away. 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. She glared at him with satisfaction. It does not work, I still suffer madness.
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