"And, oh! forgive me, though I can never forgive myself, for the misery I have caused you. Let's go up and see how the patient is doing. She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor. ‘Oh, dearie me, I wish I’d never told you anything about it,’ lamented the nun, moving to the only chair the vestry possessed and sinking down into it. “Good luck! Good luck!” She waved from the window until the bend hid him. And he would express various artistic sensibilities and aesthetic appreciations in carefully punctuated sentences and a large, clear voice. He had taken it back. She entered the kitchen.
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