Her naked body was an abomination of caked filth and sagging tubes for breasts. The thought of them distressed her without subtracting at all from the oceans of happiness in which she swam. Returning to Mrs Sindlesham’s chair, he held up the miniature so the face depicted there was turned towards the old lady. It’s only as if I’d begun to know you the day before yesterday or there-abouts. But then the features changed. There was nothing to be learned from her face. Only identity, and a chance to be someone other than a nun.
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