 What seems to be O'Leary's internal dilemma as the story progresses?
His name was Liam O'Leary and there was something stinking in his nostrils. He was a captain of guards in Estates-General Correctional Institution—better known to its inmates as the Jug—and if he hadn't been able to detect the scent of trouble brewing a cell-block away, he would never have survived to reach his captaincy. And, what was more important, why she couldn't adjust herself to it, now that she was in. And O'Leary was a man who lived by the book. He handed the rap sheet to Sodaro and said absently: "Too bad a kid like her has to be here. If anything, she had had a better environment than O'Leary himself, and look what she had made of it. The ultimate should be the complete segregation of each specialization—social and genetic measures to make them breed true, because the unspecialized man is an uncivilized man, or at any rate he does not advance civilization. O'Leary was a broad-minded man and many times he had thought almost with a touch of envy how comfortable it must be to be a wipe—a laborer . But he kept the cars going—and, O'Leary thought approvingly, when his sentence was up in another year or so, he would go back to his life with his status restored, a mechanic on the outside as he had been inside, and he certainly would never risk coming back to the Jug by trying to pass as Civil Service or anything else. When you're in it, you don't much care what it is called; it is a place for punishment. She was in a detachment of three unfortunates like herself, convoyed by an irritable guard, climbing the steel steps toward Block O from the floor below, when she heard the yelling. The two guards turned to see what was coming in as the three new candidates for the Greensleeves slumped to a stop at the head of the stairs. Now O'Leary knows I hate it when there's a woman in here. The outside guard pulled the switch that turned on the tanglefoot electronic fields that swamped the floor of the block corridor and of each individual cell. While the fields were on, you could ignore the prisoners—they simply could not move fast enough, against the electronic drag of the field, to do any harm. They had spent so much time in prisons that it was sometimes hard even for them to remember what they really were, outside. The inside guard finished putting the new prisoners away and turned off the tangler field once more.
 He says to himself that he trusts in the specialization segregation, but he has thoughts that indicate otherwise.
 He is having a hard time convincing himself of the laws that they all follow, and the validity of them.  He says to himself that he trusts in the specialization segregation, but he has thoughts that indicate otherwise.  The Warden isn't listening to him, and he's scared of overstepping his boundaries to point out the problem.  He knows that there is trouble, and he can smell it. He just can't pinpoint from where.