“I never saw Courtlaw with her—never heard her speak of him. Stir a foot, and I strike. Close behind him stood the tall gaunt figure of Marvel, with his large bony hands, his scraggy neck, and ill-favoured countenance. Her head snapped back as he grabbed her by the hair. She was pleased and a little flattered by his interest and sympathy. Say, that girl fooled me at first glance. It’s your first evening, and early impressions do count for so much. ‘Oh, dearie me, I wish I’d never told you anything about it,’ lamented the nun, moving to the only chair the vestry possessed and sinking down into it. She was dressed in one of those complicated dresses that are all lace and work and confused patternings of black and purple and cream about the body, and she was in many ways a younger feminine version of the same theme as himself. She almost laughed, but repressed her smile lest it seem cruel. It was not a long prayer.
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