She allowed herself to be ejected, therefore, and retired to the parlour after cleansing the blood from her hands and her own slight wound in the kitchen. She had never even brought a friend home in her time at the Becks, let alone been asked on dates. The wound lay open for five seconds, and then closed neatly as if it had been stitched by invisible hands. “I cannot but conclude,” he said, “that your errand involved the recital to my wife of some trouble in which you find yourself. ’ ‘Mercy me,’ gasped the nun. “Hola Marteen!” She exclaimed cheerfully.
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