‘I can’t help but be sure,’ he returned shortly. In the distance a barrel-organ was grinding out a pot pourri of popular airs. I did not know how he would act if I obstructed him. ‘Tell me about the convent? Were you happy there? They were kind to you, the nuns?’ ‘Oh, but yes. ‘Is that a gesture of friendship?’ She stamped her foot. In any case, there was no doing anything on a Sunday and Brewis Charvill, his main quarry, had gone out of town unexpectedly.
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