For she knew that men married to get something. Only she was conscious of an unfamiliar and wonderful emotion. “Why should I bear the burden of your wickedness? Who knows what might come of it? I shall permit nothing of the sort. The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. So he made his dispositions and went off on some other fool’s errand. In between naps she increasingly found herself gazing at him, his large nose, his eyes circled in silvery plum shadows, his thin lips parted as he slept baring a rim of perfect teeth. Now keep still.
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