Over the mantel, set into an ornately carved panel with fluted columns at each end, was a portrait of a man on horseback. ’ Hilary’s jaw dropped open, and he stood stupidly staring, the nun’s clothing dangling from his hand. “I thought we had discussed that, father. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. ’ Total bullshit, if you ask me. Then the foremost bowed and passed on.
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