But there was nothing in her bearing that a passer-by would have noted, to tell of the excitement that possessed her. She stole the opportunity to peer at his departing figure from the closed curtains of the front room window, his shoulders slumped forward, his posture and his ego slightly deflated. And yet for all that— It got into Ann Veronica’s nights at last and kept her awake, the perplexing contrast between the advanced thought and the advanced thinker. Her little white hand stole across the table. Then she slowly straightened, releasing him. “No, Lucy, because Satan does not exist. Morals only begin when that is settled. ‘Mademoiselle,’ he had greeted her, entering the little private parlour where, Martha being at prayer in their room, she sat alone, reading over and over the letter Mother Abbess had given her and revolving plans in her head. Back, that you may be close together.
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