" The little girl's countenance fell. ‘The poor girl was thrust into a convent to become a nun. Listening at one of the doors leading to the Master Debtors' side, he heard a loud voice chanting a Bacchanalian melody, and the boisterous laughter that accompanied the song, convinced him that no suspicion was entertained in this quarter. “We don’t let to ladies,” they said. Now, you know where he is bound. And her mother, looking unusually alert and hectic, wore cream and brown also, made up in a more complicated manner.
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