The water was cold but she waded deeper. ‘Lord, no! I’ve a better regard for my skin, I thank you. In the next box hangs the rope by which he suffered. As if he read her thought, he spoke it aloud. “About my sister,” she repeated slowly. I am sure he would go with you. It was convenient for Father Saint-Simon, who could enter this way and prepare in the little room before going up the narrow stair to the chapel above where the nuns waited.
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