And you’d better have her fetch in some food for the missie, an’ all. ‘Well said, my dear. I won't keep you long. The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. Herein was the sum of human knowledge in essence. Who knows?—on the analogy of “Squiggles” she might come to call him “Mangles!” “I don’t think I can ever marry any one,” she said, and fell suddenly into another set of considerations that perplexed her for a time.
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