Spurling, drily. “I must take them,” she said, to help herself over her own incredulity. “Think how dumb we find ourselves and stifled! I know we seem to have a sort of freedom. If I told you the facts, I expect, since you are in love with me, you’d explain the whole business as being very fine and honorable for me—the Higher Morality, or something of that sort. The nuns had no regard for the sensibilities of a “lady” and expected Melusine— for it was her allotted task—to clean and tend the soldier’s wounds even when they festered. When he was up and about, the idea of flight would return.
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