She made lumpish and inadequate interruptions rather than replies. They lived in a castle, the same place she had been turned in. Once he had managed to stake his claim, she would have all to do to prove her identity and win it back. She had a feeling at his departure as of an immense cavity, of something enormously gone; she could not tell whether it was infinite regret or infinite relief. The arrested women were herded in a passage of the Panton Street Police-station that opened upon a cell too unclean for occupation, and most of them spent the night standing. Only identity, and a chance to be someone other than a nun.
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