“I’d never have a day of peace again, John. McClintock's initial revulsion was natural; he was an honest man. “Miserable bounder,” he murmured. She packed her backpack with a change of clothes, some rags, and her old length of piano wire. “Delusion!” “You can call it what you like,” she said. ’ ‘The nuns?’ she said, gazing at him innocently. It’s no good flying out at that, Vee; I didn’t arrange it. We’ve deserted the posts in which we found ourselves, cut our duties, exposed ourselves to risks that may destroy any sort of social usefulness in us.
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