’ She jumped up, and moved impatiently to the door. "The lash cuts to the bone. The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. When they reached her rooms she stepped lightly out upon the pavement. You were never married at all. Beyond was an avenue of tall poplars that rose like columns, disappearing into undulating hills that were black with sleeping houses and fertile soil. The Roof and the Window.
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