" "What kind?" "Dickens, Hugo. "I shall be back presently," replied Thames, evasively. It opened and a nun’s head popped out. Only he hated the words he uttered, hated the blunt honesty which forced them from his lips. She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think.
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