As Spurlock called her name, she paused and turned. ‘Tell me about the convent? Were you happy there? They were kind to you, the nuns?’ ‘Oh, but yes. They took her fingerprints sitting at the gray metal desk of Officer Nolte, the virile young buck who had brought her in. Awful shapes seemed to flit by, borne on the wings of the tempest, animating and directing its fury. He told some of the particulars.
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