I’m not such a bad sort. A fortnight passed, then a month. Only identity, and a chance to be someone other than a nun. Worse than any man. The black clad students streamed slowly to their positions carrying their instruments like offerings to the pilgrimage. \" \"No, but can you carry my lunch bag? Where is yours?\" Michelle asked. She loved Florence, wandering the huge markets which bustled day and night. To be sure, Ruth had dimly been aware of this; but now for the first time she was made painfully conscious of it. She gazed steadily out of the window at that arc of glittering lights.
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