It’s an instinct. He rather liked the "sir"; it signified both gratefulness and the chastened spirit. 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. A thickly-set, sandy young man, with an unwholesome complexion and grease-smooth hair, had entered the room. He stepped back further.
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