I'm a slave to my word. For a time he would be the grim Protestant Flagellant, pursuing the idea of self-castigation. The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. “In a sense—yes. It will do its best to overlook things—” “If we let it, poor dear. Her mother had died when she was thirteen, her two much older sisters had married off—one submissively, one insubordinately; her two brothers had gone out into the world well ahead of her, and so she had made what she could of her father. The ambitions of his life, and they were many, seemed to lie far away, broken up dreams in some outside world where the way was rough and the sky always grey. ‘Nothing of the sort,’ argued Gerald.
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