" "I don't know," said the doctor, dubiously. CHAPTER IV. Only identity, and a chance to be someone other than a nun. Her shoulders were gripped hard and a familiar voice spoke. Her old nurse’s hands returned the pressure. E. Shari proceeded to paint, brush, dust, slather, and blot Lucy’s face with makeup. She crouched beneath a stump, her extremities twitching as the sun set orange and blue beyond the lace of iron-black trees.
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