Then light footsteps became audible, descending the staircase with a certain deliberation and a faint rustle of skirts. Stanley, “Mr. “If my own mother was alive,” sobbed Ann Veronica, “she would understand. 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. She winked at him as he shut the door.
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