We girls, my sister and I, were left quite alone when our father died, and I made up my mind to make some little place in the world for myself. “I am afraid,” he said gravely, “that your sister has been a little indiscreet. “Really,” she said. Who is the beautiful intruder? And why does she disguise herself as a nun? Why is she involved in an enterprise both foolhardy and dangerous? The girl’s accent suggests an émigré but Mademoiselle insists she is English. Can you lend me some stuff?” “You ARE a chap!” said Constance, and warmed only slowly from the idea of dissuasion to the idea of help. “Mrs.
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