She bound a scarf tightly round the place where the blood seemed to be coming from. I was afraid of being talked about. At this time of day the priest would be at his apartments in Brewer Street, a short walk away from Golden Square which the building overlooked. ’ The Mother Abbess—and indeed all the nuns, some of higher birth more fearful than others—were aghast at the horrors that had befallen the family Valade. At times he seemed to be claiming pity from her; at times he was threatening her with her check and exposure; at times he was boasting of his inflexible will, and how, in the end, he always got what he wanted. It was true. Of course she had taken the boy as her lover, acting as his muse.
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