Fatigued by his previous exertions, and incumbered by his fetters, he was by no means—though ordinarily remarkably swift of foot—a match for his foes, who were fast gaining upon him. ‘I don’t want a list of all the nuns resident in your wretched convent. Anna made things for her. Her hands wove through his black hair, luxuriating in its thickness. ‘The man’s gone,’ her old nurse told her, when she had recovered a little.
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