Looked all over that dratted convent of yours—or at least Trodger and the men did so—but no sign of them. There was the stile on which Jonathan had sat, and he recollected distinctly the effect of his mocking glance— how it had hardened his heart against his mother's prayer. I put your clothes out an hour ago. Brendon told him the name of a distant restaurant and sprang in by her side.
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