’ ‘It’s not that,’ the nun said urgently, ‘but I’ve remembered something important. It feels like I’ve got a snake of mucus stuffing my entire throat, just one big solid rope. They sat face to face beneath an experienced-looking rucksack and a brand new portmanteau and a leather handbag, in the afternoon-boat train that goes from Charing Cross to Folkestone for Boulogne. It was late before Jonathan ventured to his own house, where he remained up all night, and kept his janizaries and other assistants well armed.
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