‘It’s my belief she is a nun. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. “Oh, I know you would stop me if you could. Narrow little beady brown eyes, and she’s got big eyebrows like dead caterpillars. I tried painting and couldn’t get on. And I wish you all the happiness in the world.
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