Lucy changed into her Goodwill jeans and sweatshirt, plastering her hair down with an elastic band and securing it under a tight hood. ‘Mademoiselle,’ he had greeted her, entering the little private parlour where, Martha being at prayer in their room, she sat alone, reading over and over the letter Mother Abbess had given her and revolving plans in her head. As he returned to the table, he put his finger to his nose; and, though he said nothing, he thought he had a much better chance of winning his wager. She had never been there before at that hour, in that light, and it seemed to her as if she came to it all for the first time. "The Dutchman was right, after all. He rose slowly and extended it. Her aunt leaped unhappily to the thought of penitence.
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