Stanley changed his key. He has no imagination, no real generosity. They were talking of “Alcide,” as they often did in those days. Out of these he selected a faded parchment and restored the rest to safety. Once or twice she commented upon it, but she knew that it was resultant of his fear of her impending departure. ‘As to that, I am a devil, say the nuns. The street was deserted, no pedestrian school-goers walked immediately in front or behind them.
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