"Bless your soul! d'ye think I'm to be gammoned by such nonsense. CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH THOUGHTS IN PRISON Part 1 The first night in prison she found it impossible to sleep. ToC The ward into which Jack was endeavouring to break was called the Red Room, from the circumstance of its walls having once been painted in that colour; all traces of which had, however, long since disappeared. In the adjacent apartment Ann Veronica found a middle-aged woman with a tired face under the tired hat she wore, sitting at a desk opening letters while a dusky, untidy girl of eight-or nine-and-twenty hammered industriously at a typewriter. (What was the name he had given her that day?) He was walking beside the chair upon which appeared to be a bundle of colours. It was rigged up for the occasion as it has been many a time before. Again having recourse to the centre-bit,—for Winifred's door was locked,—Jack had nearly cut out a panel, when a sudden outcry was raised in the carpenter's chamber. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. John eased off.
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