“Nothing was ever done,” Miss Brett asserted, “without a certain element of Faith. ” She replied. “Let me show you something. If my conjectures are right, this boy would stay there indefinitely. Such an obvious ruse, but the boys and girls would defend their pride to the bitter end, the facade of study groups during rutting season. "And now," she added, with somewhat more composure, "leave me, dear friends, I entreat, for a few minutes to collect my scattered thoughts—to prepare myself for what I have to go through—to pray for my son. Life is a patchwork of impressions, of vanishing personalities. “You cannot say that you did not expect me,” he answered.
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