Beyond was a narrow bridge, crossing a circular building, at the bottom of which lay a deep well. The old lady clearly read his state of mind, for the apparently irrepressible dimple peeped out. She owed the nun a great deal, including her command of English, for no one else thought to ensure she could speak her mother tongue. A thing which had mystified her since childhood, a smouldering wonder why it should be, and until now she had never felt the urge to investigate. I think I asked if I could eat lunch with her and Trisha Deere one day and she said there was no room at the table. “I don’t suppose you’ll be able to do it much,” said Ann Veronica. She ignored his question.
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