Lucy felt the hairs on her neck rise. When I absorb a fact, my brain weighs the fact carefully and stores it away. ‘Tell me about the convent? Were you happy there? They were kind to you, the nuns?’ ‘Oh, but yes. It must have been impossible to see me through that much rain. "You're not out yet, you young hound," rejoined Quilt, striving ineffectually to burst open the door.
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