I daresay that is one of the names of the nuns in your convent. ” “Did it come—in Paris?” “I do not know,” he answered. A little inn flying a Swiss flag nestles under a great rock, and there they put aside their knapsacks and lunched and rested in the mid-day shadow of the gorge and the scent of resin. They confronted each other, barely feet apart, neither apparently any longer aware of anyone else in the room.
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