He turned in at the club. He succeeded so well that by the time he asked for her name once more, she fluttered her lashes as coquettishly as ever. He drew her close up to him with a strong, steady pull. At last, after a long rumbling journey in a stuffy windowless van, she reached Canongate Prison—for Holloway had its quota already. Gay. A faint buzz above the ceiling witnessed that petrography, too, was active.
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