"I'll tote the odiousness outside. He insisted once again on opening the car door for her. "To paint your portrait," answered the jailer. There was a pause, while the steel grey eyes sliced at her. Every movable mirror had been placed here, to discourage vanity, and since no whitewash covered the brocaded purple wallpaper, its pervasive hue gave an added sense of heaviness to the crowded chamber. It was in the quiet streets and squares toward Oxford Street that it first came into her head disagreeably that she herself was being followed. It was better even than the hymn-singing. Yet he stays. But she found an unknown lady’s discarded garments, and selected some of those that she tried on, sending Kimble off down the secret passage to load them onto the horse she had borrowed—unbeknownst to its owner—from Father Saint-Simon.
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