She turned towards the door, and had taken a pace towards it when it was flung open. ‘I don’t want a list of all the nuns resident in your wretched convent. Capes would come to these teas; he evidently liked to come, and he would appear in the doorway of the preparation-room, a pleasing note of shyness in his manner, hovering for an invitation. Fifty in advance. She climbed slowly towards it, keeping close to the hedge side, fragrant with wild roses, and holding her skirts high above the dew-laden grass.
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