He seldom spoke, and drank with a persistence that was sinister. She had no place she loved. She sat perfectly still, however. “You really couldn’t ride in it,” he said, deprecatingly. She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. "I have no sympathy," replied Prudence, "with a man who deliberately fuddles himself with strong drink. Far away there was the one woman for this boy of mine—some human being who would understand the dear fool better than all the rest of the world. I am shockingly poor.
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