"My father!" she whispered. Jack, who had been lingering near the group, now walked on. Ann Veronica, who knew her dress became her, dropped a curtsy to her father’s regard. Whether it was the nun’s habit or the harlot’s clothing that distressed her more, he could not begin to guess. He was now at the entrance of the chapel, and striking the door over which he had previously climbed a violent blow with the bar, it flew open.
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