” She said. The room was worse than pokey, it was shabby; and the view from the window, of chimney pots and slate roofs, wholly uninspiring. There was only one prisoner in the ward. The ledge, along which he crawled, was about a foot wide. Her relationship with John had made her the object of desire for scores of teenage boys who had dared not previously think of her in such a way. She thought of him as always courteous and helpful, as realizing, indeed, his ideal of protection and service, as chivalrously leaving her free to live her own life, rejoicing with an infinite generosity in every detail of her irresponsive being.
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