She was almost tempted to tell him, if only to see the cracks of surprise and incredulity break the immobility of his yellow countenance. There's our young friend upstairs. . He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. Sheppard, and regarding her with an insolent and threatening glance. Rhea writhed and scuttled about like a crab. To escape one phase of loneliness she had plunged into another, so vast that her courage sometimes faltered. How the deuce did I ever manage to father such a brainless nincompoop? A nun, for God’s sake! A confounded Catholic nun.
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