’ Mrs Prudence Sindlesham, a widow of several years’ standing, so she told Gerald, was a scarecrow of a female, long and lank of limb in a figure that had once been willowy. “It is not, of course, a pleasant subject of conversation for you or for me, yet I think I may venture to suggest to you that your sister’s—er—indiscretions—have reached a point which makes a separation between you almost a necessity. Perhaps her odd beauty—and that too was natural—stirred these thoughts into being. I understand nothing of what you say. Then she threw the volume away with a little impatient exclamation. ’ Gerald grinned. In a convent, you understand, one is like a servant, even if one is a lady.
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