Then she sat watching the play, sometimes offering a helpful suggestion, sometimes letting her attention wander to the smoothly shining arms she had folded across her knees just below the edge of the table. Girls who had envied her former position as John’s amour passed no opportunity to utter cryptic remarks as she sat in Study Hall, walked down hallways, or rinsed her hands in the bathroom. There was a time, long, long ago, when the tears would have rushed to my eyes unbidden at the bare mention of generosity like yours, Mr. I have said that I am but a nun now. And now, a fair exchange, Sir. Tell me all that happened, one sister-woman to another. Each of my scholars thinks it his own shirt. His hair was thick and brown and his skin was fair. I wonder if a man can quite understand that passionate feeling? It is quite a passionate feeling.
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