“A place where they lock you up for months, sometimes for years, in a stone cell, and make you sleep on a plank bed, and you have to pick oakum all day long, and are known by a number, and—er—”
“Please, Oliver!” remonstrated Lady Blount.
“I want to know, Auntie,” said Stella, a gracious, white-clad figure standing in the midst of them. She turned to the policeman.
“Are you going to take her to prison?”
“If Sir Oliver charges her, miss.”
“Of course I 'm going to charge her,” cried Sir Oliver. “It 's my duty.” He drew himself up. “I should be failing in it if I did n't.”
“Then it depends on you, Uncle, whether she is locked up or goes free?”
“That's so, miss,” replied the policeman. “I can't arrest her unless some one charges her.”
“What do you say, Auntie?”
“It 's very painful, dear. That is why I did n't want you to come in. But people who do these things have to be punished.”