Prison was bleak without spaciousness, and pervaded by a faint, oppressive smell; and she had to wait two hours in the sullenly defiant company of two unclean women thieves before a cell could be assigned to her. Making her couch upon a heap of hay, she sank at once into a deep and refreshing slumber. But was that enough? Dim, formless suspicions of something more vital wandered about his mind. 13 Montague Street. Ramage. Her mind developed into savage wrath at the present conditions of a woman’s life. By degrees, his fears vanished, and hearing nothing, he grew calmer.
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