“Politics!” Ennison answered grimly. There is turmoil, shouts, cries, jostlings, milling congestions that suddenly break and flow in opposite directions. She drew in a deep breath of the sweet mountain air. Only identity, and a chance to be someone other than a nun. Perhaps you'll give me in return some token, by which I may remind you of this occurrence, in case we meet again. She turned on the lad with her, who was visibly relieved.
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