The prison gates were besieged like the entrance of a booth at a fair; and the Condemned Hold where he was confined, and to which visitors were admitted at the moderate rate of a guinea a-head, had quite the appearance of a showroom. \"Some of them don't smell so good. From then on he was Ruth's dog. ‘What are you after this time, miss?’ asked Jack. It was an awful moment—so awful, that every other feeling except deep interest in the scene seemed suspended.
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