The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. To be alone with her, in idleness, was an intolerable thought. ‘Wait! At least tell me where I can find you. So strongly was he impressed with this idea, that grasping the iron bar with both hands, he dashed it furiously against the door, making the passage echo with the blows. “And yet in a very few weeks I shall have done with it all. He laughed suddenly, and released her.
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