Yet the smoke was curling upwards in a faint innocent-looking cloud to the ceiling. She had even confided to him how lonely it was in the island. For a time it really seemed all-sufficient to her that she should love. And it filled seven sheets of notepaper, each written only on one side. ’ ‘The nuns?’ she said, gazing at him innocently. She had suddenly become as the jewels of the Madonna, as the idol's eye, infinitely beyond his reach, sacred.
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