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Oh God! my limbs fail me. I’m so glad you’re not angry. Lucy felt the hairs on her neck rise. Hastily ascending these steps, Jack found the door, as he anticipated, locked. . ’ ‘Oh, you are, are you?’ said the nun, evidently not mollified, but she was forestalled. She appeared not to have realised the implications of her outburst, but clung a little to Gerald’s hands which had taken hers in a comforting clasp. . “Thank you—and good-bye. "Did you write it?" "No.
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