“I’ll run, too,” she volunteered. ” She turned her face to the fire, gripped her hands upon her elbows, and drew her thin shoulders together in a shrug. He leapt down into the haha surrounding the terrace, and saw that the nun was there also and backing towards him, anxiously checking now and then above the level of the terrace. ‘Mad as hatters!’ ‘It is you who is mad,’ mademoiselle told him crossly. A black-garbed young lad leapt out and let down the steps. In a moment they were in the street outside. Steeples toppled, and towers reeled beneath its fury.
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