Later, at the bottom of that envelope I found a letter. His gaze dropped to the black garment that covered her. Wood, was much better furnished with eatables than might have been expected, and boasted a loaf, a knuckle of ham, a meat-pie, and a flask of wine. She had found a couple of articles about him over the years, blurbs about the opening of a theater that mentioned him. He was content to talk about himself, though in the back of his clever mind he already suspected that she was not offering any details about her life. She held out the foil. Everything seemed designed to unhinge the mind and make the cat wretched. She did not therefore reveal to him that he had guaged her with accuracy. In a convent, you understand, one is like a servant, even if one is a lady.
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