Lady Argent fumbled in her satin bag.
“My dear, if it isn’t absolutely against the rule, and I don’t think it can be, would you like to see yourself in my little tiny hand-mirror? To think you’ve never seen yourself in the glass since you came here! And really the habit is so very becoming, though how you ever get your veil straight without a glass—not that a little one this size would be any use, only my maid and Ludovic always insist on my carrying it about with me because of my hat, you know. To keep it straight,” Lady Argent explained with a gentle push which drove her black toque over her left ear.
Frances laid the little mirror gently on her lap without looking into it. She did not know if the use of a looking-glass was for ever forbidden to a nun, but she felt no desire to risk a transgression of the rule.
“How long can you stay with us?” asked Rosamund wistfully.
Frances started painfully—she had forgotten to inquire.
“I don’t know,” she faltered. “You see, the prise d’habit is at twelve, and it’s nearly eleven now. They will want me to go and get ready.” She gazed at Rosamund, wondering if her sister would think her more occupied with the observance of convent etiquette than with their meeting. That no such lack of comprehension was Rosamund’s was evident in her reassuring, “Of course, darling. Do you think you ought to go and find out when they’ll want you?”
Only the look in her eyes spoke the effort of sacrificing any of those few precious moments together, and Frances’ heart went out to her in passionate gratitude.
“Why can’t I ask to see Mother Theresa?” inquired Lady Argent. “I should like to see her, and then you can talk to Rosamund, dear, and we can find out all about how much time you can give us—but, of course, as it’s only one day like this, they’re sure to send you for the whole time—so much more satisfactory, I always think, than half-an-hour here and there and then rushing away because some dreadful little bell has rung and leaving one to look for hours at those very uninteresting photographs of Rome and places, in enormous albums. You know the sort of thing, my dear; I can see two of them on that big table over there. Don’t move, either of you. I’m going to find the portress and ask for Mother Theresa.”
Lady Argent left them.
It seemed to Frances only a few moments later that she reappeared, and Mère Thérèse was with her.