In a convent, you understand, one is like a servant, even if one is a lady. I’m sick of this town and I can’t wait to get out. 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. “How could it not have hurt?” His analytical side started putting in overtime. How she hated talking of the man who was responsible for her being brought into the world.
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