Supper was over. ’ Le Petit Journal said that the man was dead. It had rained during the night, and the patch-work pavement was greasy with mud. ’ ‘Mercy me,’ gasped the nun. For a time her efforts to achieve a comprehensive concentration were dispersed by the passage of the village street of Caddington, the passing of a goggled car-load of motorists, and the struggles of a stable lad mounted on one recalcitrant horse and leading another. S. She turned away from the doorway of the silk loom to observe.
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