Almost at once she had comprehended that she was expected to write down her name and address, which she did, in slanting cobwebby lettering, perhaps a trifle laboriously. Now the pig knew where to find her—for it would not take long for a Catholic to locate the convent in Golden Square—even if she escaped him here. ‘If you are not going to visit Charvill today, I’ll escort you back to the convent in Golden Square. Ireton and his friends to taste it. There was a discreet knocking at the door, and Ramage’s face changed.
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