’ She turned, her eyes narrowed. At last, after a long rumbling journey in a stuffy windowless van, she reached Canongate Prison—for Holloway had its quota already. Ann Veronica was one of the few young people—and one must have young people just as one must have flowers—one could ask to a little gathering without the risk of a painful discord. The clerk at the Raffles Hotel had accorded her but scant interest.
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