She paused. ‘But how did she meet such a person in a convent?’ ‘He was wounded and came there for sanctuary,’ Gerald explained, adding almost through his teeth. The distinction lay chiefly in the right to pat their heads. Unconscious that his movements were watched, Shotbolt, meanwhile, hastened towards Wych Street. He would see this sister. The darkness prevented the carpenter from discerning the features or figure of the stranger; and the ceaseless din precluded the possibility of holding any communication by words with him.
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