Just. "Have a little patience, Sir," rejoined the jailer. And she was about as capable of intelligent argument as a runaway steam-roller. She stood face to face with him, and his voice cut across her speech and made her stop abruptly. She was almost tempted to tell him, if only to see the cracks of surprise and incredulity break the immobility of his yellow countenance. She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary.
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