“You mustn’t say anything more to your mother, Michelle. If ever I could bring myself to ask you any favour, I would ask you to forget even as I have forgotten. Sometimes I think she’s tired of us. Where the devil have you hidden all those weapons? Don’t tell me you’ve got ’em with you. " Sister Prudence looked at Sister Angelina, who understood what was expected of her. Valade, who was standing by her chair, glancing around the packed pink-papered saloon with a heavy frown on his face, was a thickset man of coarse, reddened feature, with a discontented air.
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