Then Frances heard the sound of a motor in the street below. She might not look out of the window, but her heart beat violently, and she could not but strain her ears for the sound of the front-door bell.
It came.
She wondered whether she ought to go on sweeping the corridor, and if the lay-sister in charge of the parlour would know where to find her. But when old Sister Louise finally creaked slowly upstairs, she only smiled and nodded at the little novice with her long-handled broom, and went to knock at Mère Thérèse’s door.
Frances heard “Entrez!” and then through the open door the clear incisive accents of her novice-mistress.
“Un petit moment, ma sœur! Je vous appellerai tout-de-suite.”
Evidently she was engaged in the direction of one of her flock.
Old Sister Louise retired submissively, closing the door again. She leant her tired old body against the wall, and then suddenly straightened it again with an effort and stood wearily, her weight leaning on one foot, fingering the brown rosary that hung from her girdle and slowly praying with moving lips and closed eyes.
Frances finished the last few yards of corridor.
“Sœur Louise!” came from the novice-mistress’s room.
This time Sister Louise shut the door behind her as she went in to deliver the message.