The fragrance of dryer sheets lay upon her like the snow that now drifted peacefully outside. No: I must face it out. The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. ‘Else she would not have married that ne’er-do-well only because Jarvis proposed him to her. You can’t do that sort of thing unless you do it over religion, and there’s no religion in me—of that sort—worth a rap. Mr. . ” “Not in the least,” she assured him.
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