His loins spent, Anna dismissed, Padre Antonio deliberately left his hands unwashed so that, at evening mass, between collect and acclamation, he might furtively enjoy that heavenly-hellish aroma which lingered so powerfully on his lips and fingers: sweet, pungent, rich as treacle. " Corpo di Cristo." " Amen. " Kneeling to receive, bewimpled Suor Angelica recognised that scent too -
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