” “Ye—e—es. What he told the vicomte I was not privileged to learn. ‘Well, what was I to think, miss? Martha never wrote nothing about you, and I did ask. Indignation carried her through that night, that men and the world could so entreat her. At last, after a long rumbling journey in a stuffy windowless van, she reached Canongate Prison—for Holloway had its quota already.
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