‘What has that to say to anything?’ ‘Nothing at all,’ smiled Lucy nervously. I dare say anything seemed better to her than the nun’s habit she had been obliged to use. ‘Well, what was I to think, miss? Martha never wrote nothing about you, and I did ask. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative.
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