Having seen him heavily ironed, and placed in the Condemned Hold, Jonathan recrossed the street. The water was cold but she waded deeper. She was going through with that, anyhow. Meanwhile, the clergyman, bare-headed and in his surplice, advanced to meet them. Shotbolt nodded in token of acquiescence, and emitted an odd guttural sound. Her head ached with a hollow pain.
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