Sister Angelina shook her head as if to say that such ignorance was beyond her. At length, about an hour before dawn on the second day—Sunday—having spent the early part of the night in watching at the gates of the robbers' sanctuary, and being almost exhausted from want of rest, she set out homewards. The girl’s eyes never left his face. “Who from?” She met his eye for a second and her heart failed her. "Bess wouldn't bear a rival. Raymond Plote would only be missed by his mother.
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