Brown engaged in the usual browbeating and complaining he reserved for sections who came in late and soloists who left tempo behind like the leftovers of a Sunday picnic. At last, after a long rumbling journey in a stuffy windowless van, she reached Canongate Prison—for Holloway had its quota already. His shadowy eyes revealed two things: that he was oversensitive in his extreme intelligence and that he suffered an acute insomnia. Lucy treaded down two steps, stunned.
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