” He shook his head. He had looked at it before without comprehension. Most of the tables were for those who smoked only and drank wine, but there were a few spread with tablecloths and laid for dinner. ” “Your priestess,” whispered Ann Veronica, softly. ” “In Paris, I think,” Ennison answered. ’ ‘Mercy me,’ gasped the nun. She was not squeamish—although the sight of the sergeant’s ominous preparations had severely tried her fortitude—but Kimble’s white face plagued her conscience.
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