The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. She was silent, the ghost of a fading smile passed from her lips. More than ever a sense of confusion was upon Ennison. This man and he were alike, and about the same age. He was entranced as she walked towards him. “Much better. She has had offers innumerable; for where wealth and beauty are combined, as in her instance, suitors are seldom wanting. . " "Who's lost?" demanded Ireton. " "Your ladyship——" hesitated Norris.
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