And the woollen-draper departed. “Yes,” he said, “I want to get away. What our dear mother would say back home I dread to think. He beheld a tall gaunt man, his brown face corrugated like a winter's road, grim, stony. The nuns wore their habit, and said all their offices, and went about their tasks unobtrusively, relieving the poor and needy and tending the sick. Lady Palsworthy was the widow of a knight who had won his spurs in the wholesale coal trade, she was of good seventeenth-century attorney blood, a county family, and distantly related to Aunt Mollie’s deceased curate.
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