She realized that no man had ever placed a mantle of respect upon her as Sebastian did; respect for more than just her pretty face and her now lost ability to bear children. ’ ‘It’s not that,’ the nun said urgently, ‘but I’ve remembered something important. The clanking of chains, the grating of locks, and the rumbling of bolts must have been music in Jonathan's ears, so much pains did he take to subject himself to such sounds. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. Shrinking involuntarily back into the farthest corner of the seat, Jack buried his face in his hands.
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