The door closed softly upon her. She laughed a little contemptuously. I wish”— she found she had embarked on a bad sentence—“I wish we needn’t have quarrelled. The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. ‘Take this. She felt terribly modern, even sporty as the magazines declared you should be. Do have another. ‘Was you following, too, miss?’ ‘Certainly I was following.
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