orne.
Dawes''s pride seemed terrible, with the close cell walls about her. I said, ''And
was it in one of those houses, that the girl and lady that you are charged with
hurting, were made ill?''
She looked away from me. No, she said quietly, that was in a different house, a
house at Sydenham.
Then she said, What did I think? There had been such a great stir at morning
prayers! Jane Pettit, from Miss Manning''s ward, had thrown her prayer-book at the
chaplain . . .
Her mood had changed. I knew she wouldn''t tell me any more, and I was
sorry—I had wanted to hear more about that ''naughty'' spirit, ''Peter Quick''.
I had been sitting very still to listen to her. Now, becoming more aware of
myself, I found that I was cold, and I drew my coat a little closer about me. The
action made my note-book show at my pocket, and I saw her looking at it. All the
time we talked, then, her gaze kept returning to that edge of book; until at last,
when I rose to leave her, she said, Why did I always carry a book with me? Did I
mean to write about the women of the gaol?
I told her then that I take my note-book with me wherever I go—that it was a
habit I had fallen into when helping my father with his work. I said I should feel
very strange without it, and that what I wrote in it I sometimes later put into
another book, that was my diary. I said that that book was like my dearest friend. I