Mr. Prison was bleak without spaciousness, and pervaded by a faint, oppressive smell; and she had to wait two hours in the sullenly defiant company of two unclean women thieves before a cell could be assigned to her. "Where are you going?" cried Thames, who, though wholly disencumbered, was scarcely able to keep up with him. His fingers cherished the hilt of his sword and his eyes were on his friend and superior, ready at his back to do whatever was needed.
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