“Believe what, Michelle?” Lucy asked. For a few days he was able to relegate his conscience to the background. After all, it is not long since that a Catholic nun in this country would have had to remain in hiding. “It was a bad day for me,” he said, speaking slowly and painfully. Indeed, it was his boast that he could find his way through any part of London blindfolded; and by this time, it would seem, he had nearly arrived at his destination; for, grasping his companion's arm, he led him along a narrow entry which did not appear to have an outlet, and came to a halt. She knew the story only imperfectly, and followed it now with a passionate and deepening interest. His breath grew shallower as he approached the room, conscious of the loudness of his hallway-reverberated footfalls.
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