“Oh, I am lonely,” she moaned. “I never saw Courtlaw with her—never heard her speak of him. It came to Ann Veronica one night after a long talk with Miss Miniver, as a sudden remarkable thing, as a grotesque, novel aspect, that this slowly elaborating biological scheme had something more than an academic interest for herself. The nuns had no regard for the sensibilities of a “lady” and expected Melusine— for it was her allotted task—to clean and tend the soldier’s wounds even when they festered. You can’t do that sort of thing unless you do it over religion, and there’s no religion in me—of that sort—worth a rap. If she spoke to a policeman she did not know what would ensue.
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