She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. ” “I don’t deal very much,” said Ann Veronica, “in the Higher Morality, or the Higher Truth, or any of those things. In Paris, in July, a raging mob had stormed the Bastille, provoking circumspect aristocrats to uproot themselves and take refuge abroad. The doorbell tinkled and Michelle grabbed her purse and rushed down the creaky wooden stairs. Only it was with a further and most unbelieving shrug of the shoulders that he resumed his seat.
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