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Updated: May 10, 2025
Then she examined it. A very old, poor-looking key it was blackened, worn away, and polished by long use, its ring bearing the mark of where it had been broken and resoldered. However, they all searched their pockets, and none of them, it seemed, had lost a key. "I found it in the corner," now resumed Sophie; "it must have belonged to the man." "What man?" asked Sister Hyacinthe.
Then she examined it. A very old, poor-looking key it was blackened, worn away, and polished by long use, its ring bearing the mark of where it had been broken and resoldered. However, they all searched their pockets, and none of them, it seemed, had lost a key. "I found it in the corner," now resumed Sophie; "it must have belonged to the man." "What man?" asked Sister Hyacinthe.
"He's very sorry and ashamed now, poor man, about his attacks on me, and tries to make up from a distance by trusting me completely with Jimmy. I don't bear him any malice, but of course the link between us is smashed and can't ever be resoldered. I'm asking you what I can't ask him because he's a weak man." The implication was obvious and not disagreeable to Dion.
Then she examined it. A very old, poor-looking key it was blackened, worn away, and polished by long use, its ring bearing the mark of where it had been broken and resoldered. However, they all searched their pockets, and none of them, it seemed, had lost a key. "I found it in the corner," now resumed Sophie; "it must have belonged to the man." "What man?" asked Sister Hyacinthe.
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