Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. It reverberated in the silence. Right now my heart is occupied. ‘Parbleu, the bullet is still inside you,’ Melusine guessed, remembering how the Mother Abbess had diagnosed Leonardo’s suffering when he had first come to the convent. It forbids—all sorts of things. “I don’t think she quite sees the harm of those people or the sort of life to which they would draw her,” she said. They sat face to face beneath an experienced-looking rucksack and a brand new portmanteau and a leather handbag, in the afternoon-boat train that goes from Charing Cross to Folkestone for Boulogne. There are no funerals among the poor, only burials. Lord, but it was a nun! Just as he had suspected. “No doubt about that, I fancy,” Meddoes answered lightly. I undid his coat, and I took it from his pocket. “Quite unusually cold for the time of year,” he said. Sheppard heaved a deep sigh, and opened her eyes, which now looked larger, blacker, and more melancholy than ever.
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