In the upper hall he paused to listen. He measured out the portion of another peg, the bottle wavering in his hand. You do not need my compliments. He was content to talk about himself, though in the back of his clever mind he already suspected that she was not offering any details about her life. . The arrested women were herded in a passage of the Panton Street Police-station that opened upon a cell too unclean for occupation, and most of them spent the night standing. Perhaps Ramage was the more astonished. Whether it was the nun’s habit or the harlot’s clothing that distressed her more, he could not begin to guess.
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