A widow for the fourth time, Mrs. “Don’t you understand, Nigel,” she said softly, “that it was precisely for this I have worked so hard. She felt a lump rise in her throat, for she had come to love living in America. At last some anodyne formed itself from these exercises, and, with eyelashes wet with such feeble tears as only three-o’clock-in-the-morning pathos can distil, she fell asleep. Let us be friends—as near and close as friends can be. ’ ‘I didn’t say I did not enjoy it,’ Gerald protested. Ogilvy was full of a client’s trouble in that matter, a grave and even tragic trouble. The house had in fact been converted into a convent, but the fact could not be advertised, not even in the Catholic enclave that existed in this part of town.
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