The youth produced a crumpled-up card from his waistcoat pocket. I knew it. At last, after a long rumbling journey in a stuffy windowless van, she reached Canongate Prison—for Holloway had its quota already. "The part was crooked," she explained. Eh bien, why did he not repeat it? What was she to say? ‘Prudence,’ she began hesitantly, pronouncing the name in the French way, ‘has said that she will help me to—to marry an Englishman.
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