xxxix
A FEW days later Waddington, sitting with Kitty, a long glass of whisky and soda in his hand, began to speak to her of the convent.
“The Mother Superior is a very remarkable woman,” he said. “The Sisters tell me that she belongs to one of the greatest families in France, but they won’t tell me which; the Mother Superior, they say, doesn’t wish it to be talked of.”
“Why don’t you ask her if it interests you?” smiled Kitty.
“If you knew her you’d known to ask her an indiscreet question.”
“She must certainly very remarkable if she can impress you with awe.’
“I am the bearer of a message from her to you. She has asked me to say that, though of course you may not wish to adventure into the very centre of the epidemic, if you do not mind that it will give her great pleasure to show you the convent.”
“It’s very kind of her. I shouldn’t have thought she was aware of my existence.”
“I’ve spoken about you; I go there two or three times a week just now to see if there’s anything I can do; and I daresay your husband has told them about you. You must be prepared to find that they have an unbounded admiration for him.”
“Are you a Catholic?”
His malicious eyes twinkled and his funny little face was puckered with laughter.
