We are nuns. He thought he heard a scraping sound as he turned the handle. Supper was quickly served; the oldest bottle of wine was brought from the cellar; the strongest barrel of ale was tapped; but not one of the party could eat or drink—their hearts were too full. Hadn’t they settled that already? “I want you as a friend,” he persisted, almost as if he disputed something. Cathy Beck was outraged. I can’t explain—” They regarded one another, each blinded to the other.
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