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She shook her head. ‘What, is Nicholas dead?’ He saw the two of them exchange glances and an instinct of danger rose up. He was not sure that the boy had put himself beyond the pale; merely, the boy's actions pointed that way. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘You have papers of identity, for the Mother Abbess told me so. We had such a pride in you, such hope in you. The hand that had been clenched lay open, relaxed; and upon the palm he saw her mother's locket. Egad! I shall make a good thing of it.
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