” He asked questions and listened to her views for a time. It frightened her to behold her heart and mind thus laid bare; but the chapter following would reassure her. At last, after a long rumbling journey in a stuffy windowless van, she reached Canongate Prison—for Holloway had its quota already. Born on a South Sea island, she said. “We are the music and you are the instrument,” she said; “we are verse and you are prose. I might have told you the truth. I might have known it. Presently he turned to Courtlaw. "I don't think he would leave me, even if I could part with him," observed Mrs.
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