When Mr. ToC That night Jack walked to Paddington, and took up his quarters at a small tavern, called the Wheat-sheaf, near the green. It was a serene and charming evening, and twilight was gently stealing over the face of the country. The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. It stunned her. She was fatigued physically and mentally, and neither mind nor body could rest.
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