A thin mist lay on the river, giving the few craft moving about in it a ghostly look. No: I must face it out. This light did not remain stationary, but could be seen at one moment glimmering through the rents in the roof, and at another shining through the cracks in the wall, or the broken panes of the casement. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘You have papers of identity, for the Mother Abbess told me so.
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