132 “I thought you wanted me—you told me so when we kissed in the park!” He cried. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. ” Hill staggered to his feet and drew a folded paper from his pocket. I have come to you for sympathy, perhaps for help. “Oh my God, what if she’s dead?” More giggling. He delayed the blow till the fortunate conjuncture was past. It is the old story of a Westerner meddling with an Eastern custom. ‘What is it that you told him?’ ‘Nothing, miss, I swear. ‘To what do you go, mademoiselle? The life of a nun in a convent, in a country where nuns are unwelcome.
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