There were seven tales in all—short stories—a method of expression quite strange to her, after the immense canvases of Dickens and Hugo. Girls erupted in waves of whispering as soon as she passed them by. \"I could eat now. ‘But how did she meet such a person in a convent?’ ‘He was wounded and came there for sanctuary,’ Gerald explained, adding almost through his teeth. About many of these houses hung a mysterious taint as of something weakly and commonly and dustily evil; the women who negotiated the rooms looked out through a friendly manner as though it was a mask, with hard, defiant eyes. ‘Yes, I thought you’d say that.
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