She was aware of it now as if it were a voice shouting outside a house, shouting passionate verities in a hot sunlight, a voice that cries while people talk insincerely in a darkened room and pretend not to hear. " Sister Prudence looked at Sister Angelina, who understood what was expected of her. "For my part, I don't think you ever quite got over the accident you met with on the night of the Great Storm. I know faces.
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