“I’m sorry! Mary! Are you hurt?” “No. He rose at once to his feet and turned a white face upon her. What isn’t a day-dream is this: that you and I are going to put an end to flummery—and go!” “Go!” said Ann Veronica, clenching her hands. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘You have papers of identity, for the Mother Abbess told me so. . “Look here, father,” she said, with a change in her voice, “suppose I won’t stand it?” He regarded her as though this was a new idea. “I shouldn’t have waited,” she said. My dear—I can call you that here, anyhow—I know that. A. A deep dread calm, like that which precedes a thunderstorm, now prevailed amongst the assemblage.
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