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In a convent, you understand, one is like a servant, even if one is a lady. And he did not lack courage. ‘Eh bien. But not today. And it’s like the petals falling from a flower. What was the alternative to going home? No alternative appeared in that darkness. So she took up Stevenson and began to read aloud. His face was white. ” “I am your friend,” he said slowly, “whatever you may have to tell me. She was perplexed by this, and stood for some seconds in the empty street hesitating, until the appearance of another circumspect woman under the street lamp at the corner reassured her.
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