“Sit down,” he said, and perused—“perused” is the word for it—for some moments. She was clad in fresh linen, but still wore the riding-habit she had appropriated, having sponged out the spots of blood late last night and left it to dry in the kitchens. "I can't hold it much longer—it'll break my wrist. "To make your mind perfectly easy on the score of Mrs. Told you how it would be. ‘Who me, sir? Lor’ no, sir. ‘Hadn’t meant you to know,’ said the nun gruffly. It is no problem.
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