These sisters moved in a grown-up world inaccessible to Ann Veronica’s sympathies, and to a large extent remote from her curiosity. Clotilde pried Fritz from Lucy’s left leg where he was clinging. "Open my heart, Father of Mercy!" she murmured, in a humble tone, and with downcast looks, "and make me sensible of the error of my ways. The bliss had lasted one hundred and forty years, far more than an entire mortal lifetime. Wild.
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