Nuns, I mean. There came to O'Higgins the discouraging knowledge that upon the heels of a wonderful chase—blindman's buff in the dark—would come a stretch of dull inaction. The act was mechanical, a bit of sparring for time: his anger was searching about for a new vent. Figg! In a few minutes, all will be over. “Oh, yes,” the stranger remarked good-humouredly.
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