And thus he effected his escape from the New Prison. She could feel his warm little body trying to snuggle into her, trying to wriggle loose of his swaddling cloth. ’ ‘Me, miss?’ uttered Mrs Ibstock doubtfully. The act was mechanical, a bit of sparring for time: his anger was searching about for a new vent. Since morning he had become fanatical; the atoms of common sense no longer functioned in the accustomed groove.
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