The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. When her shock and the headache subsided, and she remembered that she had been reading the letter when Gosse had accosted her, she looked for it in vain. A good deal of the food will be in tins. Believe me, the bitterness of it has almost departed, crushed out of me together with much of the weariness and sorrow I brought with me here by the nameless glory of these lonely months. . As she did so the preparation-room door opened behind her. "Take off the ruffles, Blueskin," rejoined Wild. Stanley. Gosse must now fight with his back to the altar, and a dais at his heels. “May I be allowed to say,” he declared, “that I came here with the same intention.
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