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“I want to show you something. Having ascertained that Thames was at his heels, he hurried with his ghastly burthen down Seacoal Lane. The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. He brightened as she took off her hood. Capes saw her, felt for her, cared for her greatly, even if he did not love her. That’s all about it. ‘Maybe not,’ Gerald conceded, ‘but I’m damned if I herald my approach with a lot of unnecessary blundering about in the dark. Then the foremost bowed and passed on.
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