At last, after a long rumbling journey in a stuffy windowless van, she reached Canongate Prison—for Holloway had its quota already. “One has to be so careful of one’s friends and acquaintances,” he remarked, by way of transition. She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility. The man looked as though he would have liked to deny it, but could not. " "Anything else, Sir?" "No:—stay! you'd better not bring up any silver forks or spoons. Sheppard," said Wood in a soothing tone.
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