She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. Raven locks fell to her shoulders from under the feathered beaver hat, and curled away down her back. Her softly intertwined fingers became rigid. Ann Veronica watched him from the dining-room window, and after some moments of maidenly hesitation rambled out into the garden in a reverse direction to Mr.
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