The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin. No sooner had Trenchard crossed the threshold than a fierce barking was heard at the farther extremity of the passage, and, the next moment, a couple of mastiffs of the largest size rushed furiously towards him. ” “Never better in my life,” Anna declared briskly. He disappeared into its thick doors like a magician’s rabbit. ” Another differed.
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