Even were she to get an opportunity to scream, it would be some time before such a call, unprecedented though it might be, brought the nuns so much out of their absorption that they interrupted their prayer to investigate. Why am I here—thirty years of loneliness? Because I know women, the good and the bad; and because I could not have the good, I would not take the bad. Brown was no fool, and he understood the sudden onus of the other children to share the limelight. “It isn’t only the dance,” she said. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. She knew, or guessed his mission too, for more than once their eyes met, and she laughed mockingly at him.
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