Lady Lescelles, graceful, very fashionably but quietly dressed, leaned back and watched her with shrewd kindly eyes. “I didn’t ask you to get married. She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. She turned quickly. How she had hated it!… All these mumblings which were never explained, which carried no more sense to her brain than they would have carried to Old Morgan's swearing parrot.
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