"You think that? But the convent is a great escapement. You came here, having escaped death only by an accident, and when you went to Rome to see your father you came back distraught, your mind unhinged, and it was months before you could believe that your sins could be forgiven. If you leave here, what will become of you? You will return to the stage."
Evelyn smiled sadly.
"You will meet your lovers again. Temptation will be by you; you are still a young woman. How old are you, Teresa?"
"Thirty-eight. But I no longer feel young."
"Then, do you not think it better to spend the last term with us? I am an old woman, Teresa, and you are the only friend I have in the convent, the only one who knows me; it would be a great charity if you were to remain with me…. But you fear I shall live too long? No, Teresa, the time will not be very long."
"Mother, don't talk like that, it only grieves me. As long as you wish me to stay I'll stay."
"But if I weren't here you would leave?" Evelyn did not answer. "You would be very lonely?"
"Yes, I should be lonely." And then, speaking at the end of a long silence, she said, "Why did you send away Sister Mary John? She was my friend, and one must have a friend—even in a convent."
"Teresa, I begged of her to remain. And you are lonely now without her?"
"I should be lonelier, Mother, if you weren't here."