. We stepped from the Embassy into the motor—and oh! I thought that he was dead. Even her debt to him was a triviality now. She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. But for all that, it offered relief; his brain, stupefied by the fumes, grew dull, and conscience lost its edge to bite. "Your son," replied Jack,—"your miserable, repentant son.
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