"In favour of my son. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. Their duty was to see who came in, or went out; to lock up, and open the different wards; to fetter such prisoners as were ordered to be placed in irons; to distribute the allowances of provision; and to maintain some show of decorum; for which latter purpose they were allowed to carry whips and truncheons. And like that gospel it meant something, something different from its phrases, something elusive, and yet something that in spite of the superficial incoherence of its phrasing, was largely essentially true. ‘You mean I should give myself a dressingdown? Very well. She was silent. But I wrapped it in that nun’s gear you give me. It distressed and confused her that the girl should not come to her.
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