’ ‘A convent?’ echoed Gerald with interest. “I believe it is. ‘No more, Saling, no more,’ said Mrs Sindlesham in accents of exhaustion. There were doorways to peer into, dim cluttered holes with shadowy forms moving about, potters and rug-weavers. " "If he had only been my father!—McClintock!" "God didn't standardize human beings, Ruth; no grain of wheat is like another.
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