’ A gleam of rare humour slid into Charvill’s chest. "Mr. Ann Veronica forgot him as soon as she was through the gate, and her face resumed its expression of stern preoccupation. Died short, I suppose, and the girls had to shift for themselves. Was she interested in that young ass who was risking his bones over there in the city? They had come up on the same boat. The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened.
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