" "You don't inquire what brings Sir James Thornhill here?" said Austin. Unless we can get some optimism into him, he'll probably start this all over again when he gets on his feet. The youth produced a crumpled-up card from his waistcoat pocket. The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. Without the protection of John’s star power, certain denizens of the school found new reserves of energy and turned their attention to her, especially Kate Pfister, a bleach blonde with a face that was a plain sort of pretty who had once dated John. "That was the lad's name," returned the stranger. Then her head disappeared suddenly in her hands, and her shoulders shook violently.
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