“Indeed,” she said, “I would not. He was mad. Prison was bleak without spaciousness, and pervaded by a faint, oppressive smell; and she had to wait two hours in the sullenly defiant company of two unclean women thieves before a cell could be assigned to her. The man’s passion was infectious. “I haven’t a scrap—of this sort of aversion. Why, then, did he touch it? As he climbed heavily into his chair, she was able to note the little beads of sweat under the cracked nether lip. But no more of that. Very romantic and all that. ’ ‘Yes, that is Mr Brewis Charvill, as you have found out for me.
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