Anna went out. “I suppose you’re like the rest of them. When Sheila was in a bad mood, she berated her new foster daughter for streaks on the windows, dust on the figurines, for crooked bed sheet corners, and floors that had not been waxed properly. A gaunt, powerful man: no feature of his face decided, and yet for all that it had the significance of a countenance hewn out of rock. But I wrapped it in that nun’s gear you give me. He taught her how to read and write in Latin and Greek, often rewarding her for her efforts with a flower or a trinket. ‘To find what?’ demanded Gerald.
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