Drummond had made an abominable mistake. Outside in the hall he paused and thoughtfully stroked his smooth blue chin. There was something which chilled even him in the cold impassivity of her features. ‘I don’t want a list of all the nuns resident in your wretched convent. On the morrow Spurlock (who was unaware that he had offered a prayer) let down the bars to his reserve. Gray and tranquil world! Amazing, passionless world! A world in which days without meaning, days in which “we don’t want things to happen” followed days without meaning—until the last thing happened, the ultimate, unavoidable, coarse, “disagreeable. Ah! I shall never forget the figure Jack cut on that occasion. " Trenchard, meanwhile, whose gaze was fixed upon the boy, became livid as death, but he moved not a muscle. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. Let me have more light, that I may behold him.
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