He now understood her interest in Taber, as he called himself: habit, a twice-told tale. The sing-song girl rose and meekly pattered out of the office into the night. Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed. ‘Tell me about the convent? Were you happy there? They were kind to you, the nuns?’ ‘Oh, but yes.
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