’ Hilary’s jaw dropped open, and he stood stupidly staring, the nun’s clothing dangling from his hand. She ought to be softened and tender and confidential at this phase of her life. The dress came to her only too manifestly unwashed from its former wearer; even the under-linen they gave her seemed unclean. "But don't ever let me see them again. Kneebone?" "He'd better not," muttered Blueskin. ” She leaned back amongst the cushions of her chair. A traffic of copious barges slumbered over the face of the river-barges either altogether stagnant or dreaming along in the wake of fussy tugs; and above circled, urbanely voracious, the London seagulls.
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