The slack cloth of her habit caught on a curlicue in the carved back of the pew in front, pulling her suddenly about. ‘Well she does,’ insisted Miss Froxfield impenitently, and turned to Gerald. The blades on the top spun faster and faster. All the precious paintings and statues of the divine family were here, as was the enormous wooden crucifix set above the altar. Not a bark could be discerned on the river, except those already mentioned.
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