” She said. The poor widow was thrown into an agony of distress on learning that a robbery had been committed, in which her son (for she could not doubt that Jack was one of the boys,) was implicated; nor was her anxiety alleviated by Mrs. He was a stranger. The baby crawled towards them, seeking their blood. Horrible memories of things seen beneath the microscope of the baser forms of life crawled across her mind and set her shuddering with imagined irritations. When she saw Ann Veronica she stood for a moment as if entranced, and then advanced with outstretched hands. In one hand she carried a long-stalked red rose, dripping with dew, in the other the post-bag. She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. She feared he might take her tears as a sign of weakness.
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