"Ah! you are there, my dear young lady," said the widow, smiling faintly; "when I first waken, I'm always in dread of finding myself again in that horrible asylum. After some time, the scuffle grew more and more distant, until nothing could be heard. Ashen blonde, a shade that would never excite the cynical commentary which men applied to certain types of blondes. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘You have papers of identity, for the Mother Abbess told me so.
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