CHAPTER VIII. She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. Do you know, I envy you. But such is the perversity of the human that frequently thereafter he purposely crooked the part in his hair, to give her the excuse to fetch the comb. Ann Veronica woke rather later than usual, and lay awake for some minutes before she remembered a certain resolution she had taken in the small hours. There she would wander about in the kindly darkness. At last his voice came to release her tension. Cold drops stood upon Wood's brow, as he encountered this obstacle. .
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