But, since I've seen the friend and companion of my childhood, Thames Darrell, I've no heart for it. He poured a pinch of tobacco into his palm and sniffed. Her expression was a little changed, less innocent, more discerning. Beck, it smells wonderful in here. ‘Hadn’t meant you to know,’ said the nun gruffly. Presently he caught her puzzled glance, and recollected himself, turning on the charm again.
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