’ ‘A convent?’ echoed Gerald with interest. ‘Me, I am Mademoiselle Charvill, the granddaughter of Monsieur Jar-vis Re-men-ham. What a girl of sixteen cares for is hair and a high color and moonlight and a tenor voice. But that other world, in spite of her resolute exclusion of it, was always looking round corners and peeping through chinks and crannies, and rustling and raiding into the order in which she chose to live, shining out of pictures at her, echoing in lyrics and music; it invaded her dreams, it wrote up broken and enigmatical sentences upon the passage walls of her mind. "The Captain's in such a desperate hurry, that there's no time for love-making.
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