It was the largest room in the house, which was why it had been given over to the main business of the convent as a house of God. The vestry door opened to the mews behind, and not to Golden Square. Beyond was an avenue of tall poplars that rose like columns, disappearing into undulating hills that were black with sleeping houses and fertile soil. She had to make sure, for the peace of her mind, that this was really the man. Tristan dying and Isolde coming to crown his death. ” “Are you in a hurry,” she asked carelessly.
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