"Or is it because you think I must be mad to stay here and to wear this dress? You are quite wrong if you think such a thing, for it was to save myself from going mad that I came here."
"My dear Evelyn, what could have put such ideas into your head?"
"Louise, we mustn't talk of the past. I can see you are astonished at this dress, yet you are a Catholic of a sort, but still a Catholic. I was like you once, only a change came. One day perhaps you will be like me."
"You think I shall end in a convent, Evelyn?"
Evelyn did not answer, and; not knowing exactly what to say next,
Louise spoke of the convent garden.
"You always used to be fond of flowers. I suppose a great part of your time is spent in gardening?"
An angry colour rose into Evelyn's cheek.
"You don't wish me," she said, "to talk about myself? You think—
Never mind, I don't care what you think about me."
Louise assured her that she was mistaken; and in the middle of a long discourse Evelyn's thoughts seemed suddenly to break away, and she spoke to Louise of the greenhouse which she had made that winter, asking her if she would like to come to see it with her.
"A great deal of it was built with my own hands, Sister Mary John and I. You don't know her yet; she is our organist, and an excellent one."