Making her couch upon a heap of hay, she sank at once into a deep and refreshing slumber. ‘And that object confirms me in the belief that it is not I who will shortly meet my maker. There was nothing on her face to hint of the misery that brimmed her heart this morning. He wiped the sweat from his chin and forehead. A hollow plunge, echoed and re-echoed by the walls, marked his descent into the water. Under the somewhat trying incandescent light her cheeks pleaded guilty to a recent use of the powder puff. The nuns wore their habit, and said all their offices, and went about their tasks unobtrusively, relieving the poor and needy and tending the sick.
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