The cheating of the boys in the stores ceased. All at once she realised that Kimble had halted, leaning heavily against the wall. She could hardly remember his face except for his brown hair, thick lips, and narrow dark eyes. His kind eyes were puffy with fatigue. “We are both of us trenching upon forbidden ground,” she said. And they could talk, they found; and never once, it seemed, did their meaning and intention hitch. I see that compromise is more necessary to life than I ignorantly supposed it to be, and I have been trying to get Lord Morley’s book on that subject, but it does not appear to be available in the prison library, and the chaplain seems to regard him as an undesirable writer.
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