Winifred, you are deceived in me. The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. At the period of this history, the main streets of the metropolis were but imperfectly lighted, while the less-frequented avenues were left in total obscurity; but, even at the present time, the maze of courts and alleys into which Wild now plunged, would have perplexed any one, not familiar with their intricacies, to thread them on a dark night. Wood!—no," replied the turnkey. Now, she was the very reverse of all this. “I think,” began Ann Veronica, “that you don’t realize—” He disregarded her entirely. “I’ve gotta go.
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