Sheppard, falling on her knees. She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. He was yellow and coarse of hair; flea-bitten, too; and even as he smiled at Ruth and wagged his stumpy tail, he was forced to turn savagely upon one of these disturbers who had no sense of the fitness of things. It might be dangerous to thwart him. ‘Not another caller will I receive this day.
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