‘To see Charvill. She lingered over donning her winter coat, buttoning each toggle and placket, double knotting her long scarf. “Curious case,” said Ogilvy, buttering his bread and cutting it up in a way he had. There was a tearing sound and the cloth of her habit ripped apart as the smothered point drove through it, missing its intended target. ‘Must be another of her lies. He shrugged and, to Gerald’s relief, made to leave at last. The chapel was crowded to excess.
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