It opened and a nun’s head popped out. What a fool I was to separate the two in my mind. A little within stood a second door, or rather wicket, lower than the first, but of equal strength, and surmounted by a row of sharp spikes. Occasionally the mere fact of lying in bed became unendurable, and she rolled out and marched about her room and whispered abuse of herself—usually until she hit against some article of furniture. Spurling; Austin had never quitted his post.
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