Wood entered the room, followed by Thames. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘You have papers of identity, for the Mother Abbess told me so. ‘That’s what started the fracas,’ Gerald admitted ruefully, nursing his injured hand as he recalled it. As she did so, the ruffles to the jacket of her riding habit fell away, exposing livid blue bruises about her wrist, ugly in the light of day from the window at their back. But seriously, things are not so bad as you think. There's something queer about that young man; but we'll never be able to find out what it is. “This is all rot!” he declared angrily. “No, stay, Lucy.
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