"There's nothing in his clothes. ‘Hadn’t meant you to know,’ said the nun gruffly. Winifred's features would have been pretty, for they were regular and delicately formed, if they had not been slightly marked by the small-pox;—a disorder, that sometimes spares more than it destroys, and imparts an expression to be sought for in vain in the smoothest complexion. She would look up, shake her head, and then go back to her reading or crewelwork. She held out both her hands. “Very well,” said Manning.
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