The Ragged Edge. Lucy treaded down two steps, stunned. The queer phase of the dream was this, she was at no time a woman; she was symbolical of something, and he followed to learn what this something was. How the deuce did I ever manage to father such a brainless nincompoop? A nun, for God’s sake! A confounded Catholic nun. “This is all madness,” she declared wearily. “I don’t know how to prove myself to you, John.
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