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The air was sweet with the smoky perfume of myrrh, hazy and dense with incense. As they passed beneath the thick trees that shade the road to Dollis Hill, the gloom was almost impenetrable. Disappointment flickered in Gerald’s chest, and he did not hesitate to speak his mind, unable to help a reproachful note. “She’s all right. ’ ‘Oh, you are, are you?’ said the nun, evidently not mollified, but she was forestalled. She silently willed him to stop his pacing, to calm down. ” Lucy looked at him balefully and whispered back, “She has plenty of food, Mike, it’s okay. Yon must be mine to-night. Madame Valade was that kind of woman.
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