It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. “Martin Chen!” Michelle shouted his name in an outburst, like an invocation. “You must tell me the truth, please. I dare say anything seemed better to her than the nun’s habit she had been obliged to use. I wrote three letters yesterday and tore them up.
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