” “But your dinner!” she protested. ‘That is, if she’s gone that way. On the floor, underneath the sixth row desks, was an ashtray with a small black dot of blood on its blunt round corner. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand. She saw her discarded nun’s habit still on the floor and scooped it up. Wood.
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