And who knew if the men that Gerald had posted there would follow her to protect her somewhere else? In truth, where were these soldiers? She could not see them, although she assiduously searched the mist-shrouded square from the vantage point of the bay window in the large first floor room which had become her headquarters. Then suddenly her spirit rose in revolt. But it is no longer necessary. Monsieur could rely upon his special attention, and for the cooking—well, he had his customers, who came from their homes to him year after year. A disagreeable young man, with red hair and a loose mouth, seated at the reporter’s table, was only too manifestly sketching her. Let's get one idea into our heads. The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. There was only one prisoner in the ward. The prisoner breathed with difficulty. "So it appears," replied Marvel. He couldn't be in better hands than those in which he has placed himself.
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