At the end of the passage was another door, which led into a large hall, on either side of which was a steel alleyway, reached by broad stairs in the centre of the hall. Lois looked up, saw the netting above her head and shivered. It was placed there, she knew, to prevent these unhappy women from dashing themselves to death from the top landings. “Here we are,” said the governor, and opened the cell door with his pass-key. For five minutes she was engaged with the sulky woman, who had a whining grievance against everybody except herself; and at last, with a heartfelt sigh of relief, she came out through the door and joined the governor. As he locked the cell, she said: “Thank heaven I shan’t come here any more.” “Giving up being a lawyer?” he asked good-humouredly. “Well, I never thought it was much of a profession for a girl.” “You give my intelligence too great credit,” she smiled. “I am a very commonplace clerk and have no other knowledge of the law than that stamps must be put on certain documents and in certain places!” They did not go back the way they had come, but went out through the hall into the parade ground. So perfect was the organisation that in the brief space she had been in the cell the yard was filled with grey figures parading in circles. “Exercise hour,” said the governor. “I thought you’d like to see them.” The girl’s heart was filled with pity and an unreasoning resentment against the law which had taken these women and made them into so many meaningless ciphers. With their print dresses and white mob caps, there was something very ugly, very sordid about them, something which clutched at the girl’s heart and filled her with a vague fear. There were women of all ages, old and young, some mere girls, some grown ancient in sin, and each bore on her face the indefinable stamp of abnormality. There were fierce faces, cunning faces, weak, pathetic faces that turned to her as the ghastly circle shuffled on its way; faded eyes that stared stupidly, dark eyes that gleamed with malignant envy, careless eyes that did not trouble to investigate her further than by a casual glance. Shambling, shuffling women, who seemed after a while to be unreal. The circle had nearly passed in hideous completeness when Lois saw a tall figure that seemed to stand out from that ground of horror. Her back was straight, her chin uplifted, her calm eyes looked straight ahead. She might have been forty, or fifty. The delicately moulded features were unlined, but the hair was white. There was something divinely serene in her carriage. “What is that woman doing here?” said Lois, before she realised that she had asked a question which no visitor must put to a prison official. Dr. Stannard did not answer her. He was watching the figure as it came abreast. For a second the woman’s eyes rested gravely upon the girl. Only for a second--just that period of time that a well-bred woman would look at the face of another--and then she had passed.