It was convenient for Father Saint-Simon, who could enter this way and prepare in the little room before going up the narrow stair to the chapel above where the nuns waited. She almost laughed, but repressed her smile lest it seem cruel. As Melusine approached the door, she saw Kimble speed up. ‘Seems quiet enough,’ observed the junior officer, his gaze raking the shuttered windows of the building’s grey stone frontage. She had treated him badly; she had hurt him and her aunt; she had done wrong by their standards, and she would never persuade them that she had done right. "But you are a good man, and you'll understand. Perhaps that was the reason why she enjoyed preparing suppers at the Becks. I can't invent; the thing won't come.
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