Miss Ridley asked her then, did she wish the hair to be kept?—The prisoners, it seems, may have their shorn hair bound and stored with their things, to take with them when they are freed. The girl gazed once at the quivering pony’s tail, and shook her head. ‘Very well,’ said Miss Ridley. She carried the tresses to a wicker basket, and there let them fall. ‘We have uses for hair,’ she said to me, darkly, ‘at Millbank.’
