F. ‘Hadn’t meant you to know,’ said the nun gruffly. She spoke with a certain odd deliberation carefully chosen words which fell like drops of ice upon the man who sat listening. She knew blood was rushing to his face and other places as well. That bruise will answer the same purpose. She reached a tiny yellow-fronted cottage covered with flowering creepers, and entered the front room by the wide-open window. ‘Do you think it is the man in the moon that I mean? What is it that Gérard has told you?’ ‘That you need help. I bring you tidings of an old friend. Let me keep him. Eyebrows knitting, she looked towards the ground a few feet away from him, guiltily. " "Of course—of course," returned Wood, hastily; "anything's better than that.
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