“You see,” said Ann Veronica, with the air of one who shares a difficulty, “I’ve promised to go. ’ ‘Mercy me,’ gasped the nun. Flinging her back against it, she put her hands out, barring his way. It’s got to be at last like tobacco-ash over all my sayings and doings. And when Mr. I say, I'll take the yarn over and read it to McClintock. I’ve never found them hostile.
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