“I don’t want children, Lucy. The same pale white buttocks, the same freckles in the same unchanging patterns on her collarbone that all of her mother’s potions had never been able to erase. " And he looked at the moment as if he had lost all desire to know it. I want to love him. " Sister Prudence looked at Sister Angelina, who understood what was expected of her. “And as for praying for faith—this sort of monologue is about as near as any one of my sort ever gets to prayer. “I have answered all your questions,” she said.
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