The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. There you will be, in an inner temple. " "Of what am I accused?" asked Thames, who though a good deal alarmed at first, had now regained his courage. Cathy gave her a bear hug and patted her severe 252 hairdo. She read the policeman’s rueful glance when she caught his refection in his rearview mirror. "Do you see any likeness?" "Don't I," returned Jack, bitterly.
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