But for the next few days he avoided Cheveney like the plague. There was a young lad ahead of her. I am going to take you entirely at your word. When will he be up?" "That depends. “Why should one pretend?” she whispered. The slack cloth of her habit caught on a curlicue in the carved back of the pew in front, pulling her suddenly about. ‘Certainly no one will find it.
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