The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. ‘Laisse-moi,’ she panted, shifting wildly in his hold, so that he had all to do to keep her thus imprisoned. I saw her face and it was the face that had been hidden from me in dreams, a face very much like yours, Lucia. That's why I'm so anxious to get her to a haven. He was staring at her, openly gaping. “You did not tell me that you were going out, or I would have offered my escort. “That sounds quite absurd,” she answered. ‘Exactly like my father. She had to have him, her body was going crazy for the want of sex. There was a new softness in her eyes, a hesitation, a timidity about her manner which was almost pathetic. She reached for the door handle.
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