Manning might go on now idealizing her as much as he liked. "I've lost my wager. And tell Pottiswick to mend that lock we broke. ‘Oh, dearie me, I wish I’d never told you anything about it,’ lamented the nun, moving to the only chair the vestry possessed and sinking down into it. I applaud your prudence: it is, however, needless. ‘Yes, but I’m probably chasing moonbeams. ‘So now you will please to go away and leave me to my business.
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