At last, after a long rumbling journey in a stuffy windowless van, she reached Canongate Prison—for Holloway had its quota already. There were the burnt papers still in the grate. Sheppard, distractedly. " "Lord!—think of having sharks for neighbours? Every morning I'll take a dip into the lagoon. She went about in a negligent November London that had become very dark and foggy and greasy and forbidding indeed, and tried to find that modest but independent employment she had so rashly assumed.
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