At last some anodyne formed itself from these exercises, and, with eyelashes wet with such feeble tears as only three-o’clock-in-the-morning pathos can distil, she fell asleep. “The real reason why I am out of place here,” she said, “is because I like men. ’ She seemed to recollect herself suddenly. . At last, after a long rumbling journey in a stuffy windowless van, she reached Canongate Prison—for Holloway had its quota already. I told him that I was not ‘Alcide.
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