The arrested women were herded in a passage of the Panton Street Police-station that opened upon a cell too unclean for occupation, and most of them spent the night standing. " "What is it?" asked Thames. It was less will than education. “Looooo-ceeeeee!!” He yelled, sounding like Desi Arnaz. The prisoner was then thrust in by Quilt. Her heart was beating with quite unaccustomed vigour, her hands were hot, she was conscious of a warmth in her blood which the summer sunshine was scarcely responsible for.
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