‘Hadn’t meant you to know,’ said the nun gruffly. Everything was blurred. Almost worthy of your own fertile imagination. Hadn’t they settled that already? “I want you as a friend,” he persisted, almost as if he disputed something. At length the task was done, and she jabbed the needle into a cushion, folded the coat, and rose. The love-songs of all the ages were singing in her blood, the scent of night stock from the garden filled the air, and the moths that beat upon the closed frames of the window next the lamp set her mind dreaming of kisses in the dusk. " "That's the way it goes. .
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