The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. She had hardly noticed the loss of her dagger, so strong had been the waves of relief that attacked her on hearing that Jack had returned from death’s door. At Anna’s words she seemed suddenly to stiffen. " "Till midnight," replied Jack. ” “And no one else—has a key?” “I believe,” she said, “that that man must have one. His reputation was slightly tainted by his marriage to her mother, an exotic blue-eyed raven-haired beauty, a Gypsy doll with a clandestine heritage. Diane spoke first. The tree-lined streets were silent except for the sporadic revving of glass packs down Church Avenue. Why did you go back to your old look? Don’t take it personally, Lucy, but sometimes you look like you are trying to dress ‘poor’ or something. Of course, at home there would have been questions.
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