‘Certainly I am not a nun. But if you have considerable money, you had better leave it in the office safe. Bête, she told herself fiercely. ‘Suppose you don’t know what sort of proof she was after?’ he asked. Like the nuns, she hardly ever looked in a mirror. Fortunately, ever since Wild's late murderous attack, the household has all been well armed. Had it not been for the Plague, she might have had her own babies. His literary instincts were reviving. The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. CHAPTER IV.
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