‘Let me tell you,’ went on the nun severely, ‘it would have been better for you if you had taken the veil. It slid off flimsily. Red velvet curtains rustled under dim lights as the door shut with a heavy snap. She had traversed perhaps three bookshelves, passed across the door that must lead to the hall, turned the corner, and was just about to reach the fireplace when she abruptly became aware that something under her fingers had felt wrong. Then suddenly with a rush came reality, came “growing up”; a hasty imperative appeal for seriousness, for supreme seriousness. “And yet in a very few weeks I shall have done with it all.
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