Old saltwater was right. ‘I know,’ said Prudence Sindlesham, sympathy in her tone. ‘I did not think so. Looked all over that dratted convent of yours—or at least Trodger and the men did so—but no sign of them. But to choose this of all moments. For a time he would be the grim Protestant Flagellant, pursuing the idea of self-castigation. Lost, stolen, or strayed, the Young Person!.
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