These were so outside her experience that she found it possible to thrust them almost out of sight by saying they would be “all right” in confident tones to herself. Not a word passed between them. What hotel should she go to? If she told a cabman to drive to an hotel, any hotel, what would he do—or say? He might drive to something dreadfully expensive, and not at all the quiet sort of thing she required. “Where is she?” He would yell even louder until she was sure that people in faraway fishing boats could probably hear him. My poor Hoddy! I had to talk harshly, or break down and have hysterics. The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. Clothes. ‘But I ain’t been idle, miss, I swear it.
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