He lived on the seventh floor behind a winding set of hallways that towered over her in their grayness. It was convenient for Father Saint-Simon, who could enter this way and prepare in the little room before going up the narrow stair to the chapel above where the nuns waited. And, if Rachel had not carried a candle, the room would have been plunged in total darkness. It brought no coconut. She perceived that his countenance was only composed by a great effort, his features severely compressed. “I haven’t seen the new Patience, dear,” she said.
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