“I may go to Hatton House later, but you needn’t wait. That dress is thirty years old, if a day. But what he could do or might do she could not imagine. The agonized mother could scarcely repress a scream at the spectacle that met her gaze. A creeping numbness invaded her. The dismal tolling of St. Sheila had dropped glaring hints that she knew, which Chuck tacitly acknowledged with a lowered gaze. ‘Oh, dearie me, I wish I’d never told you anything about it,’ lamented the nun, moving to the only chair the vestry possessed and sinking down into it. God send the fellow did turn out to be a spy! Beckoning Roding on, Gerald crept down the corridor towards the source of the swishing he had heard. "And now," she added, with somewhat more composure, "leave me, dear friends, I entreat, for a few minutes to collect my scattered thoughts—to prepare myself for what I have to go through—to pray for my son.
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