At last, after a long rumbling journey in a stuffy windowless van, she reached Canongate Prison—for Holloway had its quota already. Seeing John in Chemistry was the worst. Sir John and Annabel seated themselves at one of them, and the proprietor himself, a small dark-visaged man, radiant with smiles, came hurrying up, followed by a waiter. Until at last I persuaded him to go to bed. You have been her guardian angel. ‘Poor things. Dizziness overcame him like anesthetic and he slept.
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