"Si—lence!" vociferated Charcam, laying great emphasis on the last syllable. We were talking about the suffrage—and I rather scoffed. He was a fool. ‘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. She read voraciously, and presently, because of her aunt’s censorship, she took to smuggling any books she thought might be prohibited instead of bringing them home openly, and she went to the theatre whenever she could produce an acceptable friend to accompany her. He righted a chair and sat in it, his face in his hands. She was the social leader of Morningside Park, and in her superficial and euphuistic way an extremely kind and pleasant woman. Something changed for her.
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