She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. And so bitterly did the carpenter reproach himself with his neglect, that he resolved, at all risks, to go back in search of it. They decided quite audibly, “She’s an Old Dear, anyhow. Look at the cock’s feathers, look at the competition there is everywhere, except among humans. They were ingenious disguises of gilt paper destructively gummed, it would seem, to Ann Veronicas’ best dancing-slippers. But one day he came to me. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. That could signify nothing except that the doctor had a friend down there somewhere, on an island in one of those archipelagoes. He would stare at her intensely when he was certain his parents were not looking in his direction. “For no other reason than you talk too much. She noticed an odd new gleam in Michelle’s eyes, a focus she had not noticed before. ‘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. And I’ve read, and thought, and guessed, and looked—until MY innocence—it’s smirched.
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