The lamp was not yet lit, and in the dim light he bent forward as though trying to look into her averted face. She grasped at the right one, massaging where his grip had been and Gerald hoped he had not bruised her. The audience was made up of parents, teachers, and a few other curious folks from town, all sitting hushed in anticipatory silence as the school orchestra assembled onstage. The vestry was perhaps the only room in the place, except her allotted curtained off portion of the dormitory chamber that served for her cell—and she could not scandalise the nuns by having a man in there, be he never so much a servant—where Melusine could be sure of privacy. They were in different key, they had a different timbre. Her father intercepted her, and for a moment she and he struggled with their hands upon the latch. They made a stratum into which Ann Veronica was now plunged up to her neck; it had become her stratum. You see, I—I am a woman worshipper.
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