’No, I don’t suppose she’ll leave; it would be easier for me if she did, but it would give rise to any amount of talk.  And where would she go if she did leave, unless she lived with you?’

’My house is too small; besides, she didn’t speak of leaving, only that she hadn’t yet taken her final vows.  I explained that no one will distinguish between the black veil and final vows.  Am I not right?’

’I think those vows will take a great weight off your mind, Oliver.  I wish I could say as much for myself.’

The Reverend Mother opened a glass door, and brother and sister stood for some time admiring the flower vases that lined the terrace.

‘I can’t get her to water the geraniums.’

‘If you’ll tell me where I can get a can—­’

‘You’ll excuse me, Reverend Mother.’

It was the Sister in charge of the laundry, and, seeing her crippled arm, Father Oliver remembered that her dress had become entangled in the machinery.  He didn’t know, however, that the fault lay with Mary, who was told off to watch the machinery and to stop it instantly in case of necessity.

’She can’t keep her attention fixed on anything, not even on her prayers, and what she calls piety I should call idleness.  It’s terrible to have to do with stupid women, and the convent is so full of them that I often wonder what is the good of having a convent at all.’

‘But, Eliza, you don’t regret—­’

’No, of course I don’t regret.  I should do just the same again.  But don’t let us waste our time talking about vocations.  I hear enough of that here.  I want you to tell me about the music-mistress; that’s what interests me.’

And when Father Oliver had told her the whole story and showed her Father O’Grady’s letter, she said: 

’You know I always thought you were a little hard on Miss Glynn.  Father O’Grady’s letter convinces me that you were.’

‘My dear Eliza, I don’t want advice; I’ve suffered enough.’

‘Oliver dear, forgive me.’  And the nun put out her hand to detain him.

’Well, don’t say again, Eliza, that you always thought.  It’s irritating, and it does no good.’

’Her story is known, but she could live in the convent; that would shelter her from any sort of criticism.  I don’t see why she shouldn’t take the habit of one of the postulants, but—­’

The priest waited for his sister to speak, and after waiting a little while he asked her what she was going to say.

‘I was going to ask you,’ said the nun, waking from her reverie, ’if you have written to Miss Glynn.’

‘Yes, I wrote to her.’

‘And she’s willing to come back?’

’I haven’t spoken to her about that.  It didn’t occur to me until afterwards, but I can write at once if you consent.’

’I may be wrong, Oliver, but I don’t think she’ll care to leave London and come back here, where she is known.’