He was not addicted to monologue, and the only audible comment he permitted himself at first upon a universe that was evidently anything but satisfactory to him that afternoon, was one compact and entirely unassigned “Damn!” The word must have had some gratifying quality, because he repeated it. The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. “You could have a talk to Miss Kitty Brett this afternoon, if you liked. She'll have this hour always with her; and you failed her. ” Inwardly, she laughed at the idea of him trying to beat on her, flailing, his arms akimbo. ’ ‘It’s not that,’ the nun said urgently, ‘but I’ve remembered something important.
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