Looked all over that dratted convent of yours—or at least Trodger and the men did so—but no sign of them. But if I painted her as I'd like to, the natives would instantly distrust me; and I'd have to build up confidence all over again. The little old lady struck like a projectile upon the resounding chest of the foremost of these, and then Ann Veronica had got past and was ascending the steps. Not all of us, but some of us.
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