"Allow him that small grace," cried Wood. She screamed involuntarily—she had never in her life screamed before—and then she began to wriggle and fight like a frightened animal against the men who were holding her. But as she got out of the train at Morningside Park Station she had a shock. Meantime, the Stone Hall was crowded by all the inmates of the jail, debtors, felons, turnkeys, and officers who could obtain permission to witness the ceremony of the prisoner's irons being struck off. Her situation was perplexing her very much, and the Widgett atmosphere was lax and sympathetic, and provocative of discussion. It is not at all what I expected either. Ann Veronica’s experiences of men had been among more stable types—Teddy, who was always absurd; her father, who was always authoritative and sentimental; Manning, who was always Manning. " "Halloo, Nab!" vociferated Quilt.
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