The whole place had come to life, the magic seeped out of the walls. At last, after a long rumbling journey in a stuffy windowless van, she reached Canongate Prison—for Holloway had its quota already. Though it’s very kind of you. She took refuge in beating her pillow and inventing insulting epithets for herself. Crocodile Tears. For whom had its sharp point been intended? Valade? Or perhaps his wife now that the girl had word of their marriage.
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