They are their mother’s sons. She brought her hands up to her head and ripped out two long chunks of her hair, pulling out shreds of scalp. I am quite indiscriminate, I assure you. She could not move. “Yes,” she said at last, “it is firm and affectionate. ‘Cousin? But I am a fool. The fanatic has no such word in his vocabulary. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘You have papers of identity, for the Mother Abbess told me so.
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