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This—’ waving an imperious hand in a sweeping arc about the library ‘—is my house. The Committee of Secrecy—that English Council of Ten—were sitting, with Walpole at their head; and the most extraordinary discoveries were reported to be made. She calls us her guests, but in reality we are her prisoners. How long wilt thou forget me, O Lord? for ever? How long wilt thou hide thy face from me? She came upon the Song of Songs—which had been pasted down in the Enschede Bible—the burning litany of love; and from time to time she intoned some verse of tender lyric beauty. ‘She ought to be. ’ ‘Now why didn’t I make that connection?’ Gerald asked of the air in a tone of regret. How the deuce did I ever manage to father such a brainless nincompoop? A nun, for God’s sake! A confounded Catholic nun. It was ten feet long, a relic. And nothing to tell her where to begin. ’ ‘Alone, miss?’ ‘Certainly alone.
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