That glove is still preserved. Nothing else matters. 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. It was a shame that they had made such a fuss, she thought as he arrived. “Why shouldn’t one face the facts of one’s self?” She stood up. She would just have to show up and hope for the best. A white man, wandering about the streets of Canton at night, was a challenge to such a catastrophe. The tail-ender of this little caravan, he had been rather out of it.
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