You know not in what dark places my life has been cast; with what crimes it has been stained. The contact is disturbing; and we prefer going around the fact to facing it. Never! Perhaps some day, quite soon, she might regret that breakfast-room. Her mother brewed potions to scent her hair, sweet balms of anise for her lips and hands, told her wonderful secrets, some decidedly un-Christian. With some difficulty he contrived to raise her to the window, and with still greater difficulty to squeeze her through it—her bulk being much greater than his own. Lord, but it was a nun! Just as he had suspected. "'The Man Who Could Not Go Home.
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