But on Sunday he had been obliged to attend to certain matters for the nuns. He impetuously grasped a hold of her hand, looking for a callous. Was that it? Had she clothed this unhappy young man with glamour? Or was it because he was so alone? She could not get through the husks to the kernel of what really actuated her. She smiled and started for the stairs without reply. Their momentary absence seemed to have worked wonders; for now the most perfect understanding appeared to subsist between them. Cheveney strolled up, a pipe in his mouth.
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