Turning off again on the left, down Seacoal Lane, they arrived at the mouth of a dark, narrow alley, into which they plunged; and, at the farther extremity found a small yard, overlooked by the blank walls of a large gloomy habitation. Her skin prickled. "You had better let me convey her to Dollis Hill," he said. It was not a hopeful looking group. “Your little flag of pride must flutter down with the rest of them, Ann Veronica. 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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