A hollow plunge, echoed and re-echoed by the walls, marked his descent into the water. Always as black and bitter as gall. . ‘Tell me about the convent? Were you happy there? They were kind to you, the nuns?’ ‘Oh, but yes. He found the door ajar, and, to his surprise, perceived little Winifred seated at a table, busily engaged in tracing some design upon a sheet of paper. Very slowly emerging out of a phase of stupefaction, these personal affairs and her personal problem resumed possession of her mind.
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