"Give me the child, or—" As he spoke the door was thrown open, and Mrs. 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. Sheppard. No one had lived here since old man Remenham had died some eighteen months ago, for the heir, so it was rumoured, was a relative with property of his own. Ramage seemed always fencing about the forbidden topic, probing for openings, and she wondered why she did not give him them. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure.
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