"These are my terms, Sir Rowland," he added, taking a sheet of paper from his pocket, and pushing it towards the knight. She tolerated spitballs in her curly hair and had to buy a new backpack when hers was stolen. Only identity, and a chance to be someone other than a nun. Someone, it appeared, was trying to profit from that fact. John has made me so happy, I’ve been losing myself in him. The room was worse than pokey, it was shabby; and the view from the window, of chimney pots and slate roofs, wholly uninspiring.
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