She was always a subject of amusement to herself, and she was still smiling when a knock awoke her from her whimsical reveries.  She answered “Come in,” and an elderly nun told her that supper was ready in the parlour.  In this room, furnished with a table and six chairs and four pious prints, Evelyn ate her convent meal, a sort of mixed meal, which included soup, cold meat, coffee, jam and some unripe pears.  The porteress took the plates away, and somehow Evelyn could not help feeling that she was giving a good deal of trouble.  She could see that the nuns did everything for themselves, and she abandoned hope of ever finding a can of hot water in her room.  She remembered that when she made her retreat some years ago, she had not noticed these things.  She owed all her wants to Owen.  Mother Philippa came in, delighted to see her, and anxious to know if she had everything she wanted.

“I thought you would be sure to be going abroad, and that next Easter, the time you were here before, would be the time to ask you.”

“But the Reverend Mother thought that now would be a better time.”

“Yes, she said that Easter was a long way off, and that a rest would do you good after singing all the season in London.”

Evelyn wondered what idea the phrase “the season in London” awoke in the mind of the nun.  A little puzzled look did pass in her eyes, and then she resumed her friendly chatter.  Evelyn listened, more interested in Mother Philippa’s kind, amicable nature than in what she said.  She imagined in different circumstances what a good wife she would have been, and what a good mother!  “But she is happier as she is.”  Evelyn could not imagine any soul-rending uncertainties in Mother Philippa.  At a certain age, at seventeen or eighteen, she had felt that she would like to be a nun; very probably she was not any more pious than her sisters; she had merely felt that the life would suit her.  That was her story.  Evelyn smiled, and looked into Mother Philippa’s mild eyes, in which there was nothing but simple kindness, and with a yes and a no she kept the conversation going till the bell rang for Office.

“I do not know if you would care to come to church.  Perhaps you are tired after your journey?”

“Journey!  I have only driven a few miles.”

Evelyn ran upstairs for her hat, and she followed the nun down the cloister which led to the church.

“That is your door, it will take you into the outer church.”

The nuns’ choir was still empty, but the two candles on the high altar were already lit, ready for Matins and Lauds.  Evelyn had only just taken her place, when at that moment a door opened on the other side of the grille, and the grey figures, their heads a little bent, came in couples and took their place in the stalls.  They were wonderfully beautiful and impressive, and the idea they represented seemed to Evelyn extraordinary, simple and true.  For,