’ ‘Why did you not claim it yourself?’ asked Gerald. She munched her bland Whopper as he wolfed three in a row, stuffing his mouth with half a dozen French fries at a time. ‘It’s my belief she is a nun. She turned to Lucilla, a plea in her face. Then he sat down and filled his pipe slowly and thoughtfully. It ran in rivulets down her face, penetrating her hood and the thick quilting of her coat.
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