Sheila was a stout woman, her bosoms huge, her face 110 wide and square. They turned the last corner, and almost immediately a man who had been standing there turned and struck Ennison a violent blow on the cheek. ‘You keep a-hold of him,’ Trodger ordered his men. She tried not to pant, not to reveal herself, and she began to shake. ‘Tell me about the convent? Were you happy there? They were kind to you, the nuns?’ ‘Oh, but yes.
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