Ann Veronica was not aware of this literary side of her teacher; she had a little tinge of annoyance at Miss Garvice’s advantage. I have always understood that men avoid like the plague a woman with a sense of humour. It is Anna again who stands between me and ruin. Vitally, she had the letter that proved her identity as a Charvill: the one her father had written to the Abbess when he sent her to the convent. The Master listened, with becoming attention, to the narrative, and, at its conclusion, shook his head gravely, applied his thumb to the side of his nose, and, twirling his fingers significantly, winked at his phlegmatic companion. “I’m sorry Mister McCloskey! I was out seeing my boyfriend!” He stared at her concernedly.
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