She was always the last person to exit after the crowds had stampeded, trailing slowly behind them like dust. She went up-stairs and hesitated between four doors with ground-glass panes, each of which professed “The Women’s Bond of Freedom” in neat black letters. A door slammed. It’s the rarest luck, the wildest, most impossible accident. But although startled and clearly afraid, there was no self-consciousness in her gaze and she was standing her ground. " Sister Prudence looked at Sister Angelina, who understood what was expected of her. This won’t do.
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