The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. ” She said as the car stopped. Great stone staircases leading no one knew whither, and long gloomy passages, impressed the occasional visitor with the idea that he was traversing a building of vast extent; and, though this was not the case in reality, the deception was so cleverly contrived that it seldom failed of producing the intended effect. The atmosphere was 46 strained and deathly quiet at the dining room table. The man was my husband. I saw the blood come as he rolled over. Both, perhaps?’ At that, her eyes darkened with fury.
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