She had felt very uncomfortable around him, grotesque. Oh, the scent of the flowers that day, the delicious quiet, the swallows that dived before us in the river. Through a blur of tears Ruth followed the rocking light until it vanished. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘You have papers of identity, for the Mother Abbess told me so. But not so much a pig as that man. She had never had a pet, never had a real doll.
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