The bed was hard beyond any experience of hers, the bed-clothes coarse and insufficient, the cell at once cold and stuffy. She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. The lines about his mouth gradually softened. ” “We will do it,” he declared. She would not forgive me. ” She spat in his face. Almost at once she had comprehended that she was expected to write down her name and address, which she did, in slanting cobwebby lettering, perhaps a trifle laboriously. She had changed into dungarees herself and kept her hair as it was. "No, I shan't," replied Rachel, saucily.
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