CHAPTER XVIII The doctor reached for the key and studied it sombrely. At least here she was safe. Stop it. It was Martin, she could hear his heart beat. She could feel his warm little body trying to snuggle into her, trying to wriggle loose of his swaddling cloth. Of the women felons' rooms nothing has yet been said. I’m sorry Lucy. It was in no sense confessional; it was a state of mind in the patient the doctor had already anticipated.
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