Keys jangled and the door swung open. “Out,” said the talker of the two, and that was all. There was no doubt who the order was meant for; Miss Dolly didn’t glance up from the yellowed pages of her romance magazine. The matrons were regarding her with a cold apathy that frightened her, and she had to bite down on her fear. The cell door slammed shut, and they started down the corridor. When she glanced to her left and caught the quiet one treating her to a dirty stare, her stomach twisted. They ushered her up the stone staircase to the ground floor, then turned into the north wing. She was sure of it now: They were going to put her in with the men and let those animals have at her. She clenched her jaw and braced herself, swearing she would not go through what they were planning. She’d fight, so they’d have to beat her unconscious or kill her. They passed along the corridor between the cells, and when the men noticed her passing, a frenzy went down the line like a kerosene fire.
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