The boy was bright and inquisitive as he was subtle. She saw her discarded nun’s habit still on the floor and scooped it up. “Suppose you call me by my proper name,” she said quietly. It might have been the moon, or the phosphorescence of the broken water, or it might have been his abysmal loneliness; but suddenly he caught her face in his hands and kissed her on the mouth. He boasted of her ability to learn to men who were a stone’s throw from having the power of the pope himself. This is your moment. "Thank you," she said, and left the office. Things happen to women—proper women—and all they have to do is to take them well. "Mercy on us! Well, I thought their manners quite out o' the common.
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