” She assented gently. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘You have papers of identity, for the Mother Abbess told me so. “How could I, when your sister sings now at the ‘Unusual’ every night and the name ‘Alcide’ flaunts from every placard in London?” “The likeness between us,” she said, “before I began to disfigure myself with rouge and ill-dressed hair, was remarkable.
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