There was a tearing sound and the cloth of her habit ripped apart as the smothered point drove through it, missing its intended target. He stabbed a kitchen knife between her ribs. There was a hint of tears in her voice. " "Company!" echoed Rachel; "at this time of night?" "Company, child," repeated Kneebone. She gave me an impression of a sort of patched quilt; little bits of patterned stuff coming up again and again.
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