For a few moments, Thames regarded the little girl through the half-opened door in silence. There were doorways to peer into, dim cluttered holes with shadowy forms moving about, potters and rug-weavers. Wood. ’ Oh, do they? No kitchen service? No feeding of pigs? It was evident that this woman knew nothing of nuns, if a certain young lady’s artless reminiscences were anything to go by. “If only I could afford another!” she thought regretfully. Gerald’s gaze bored into hers. He could remember when women laid away their gowns in lavender—as this girl's mother had. “Hey John, how’s it going?” “Hey Michelle.
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