She opened the window, for the night was mild, and sat on the floor with her chin resting upon the window-sill. "I call this ere crib the Little-Ease, arter the runaway prentices' cells in Guildhall. We are amiable to one another, but we don’t mix. That’s why I wanted your weapons. At last, after a long rumbling journey in a stuffy windowless van, she reached Canongate Prison—for Holloway had its quota already.
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