‘Tell me about the convent? Were you happy there? They were kind to you, the nuns?’ ‘Oh, but yes. Gosse sagged under the impact, knocking over the card table, and falling to sit, half stunned, the discharged pistol flying from his slackened grasp. And then, as she stood there, with the fragments of the torn canvas at her feet, some even caught upon her skirt, the door was thrown open, and a girl entered humming a light tune. A small brickbat was thrown, which struck Jonathan in the face. Single pearls— Lord knows where they come from!—are always turning up, some of them of fine lustre; but I never set eyes on them.
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