"Will she enter soon?"
"Very soon!"
"Have you known her long?"
"A few months; but it seems I have known her all my life."
"Is she—what is she, colored or white?" he asked.
"Colored."
"Indeed. Her name?"
"I have it; but I forget. I call her always Little Sister. I have her picture and will let you see it. She had it taken a few days ago, out there on that grass plot," and she pointed to the yard of the municipal building. She was a few minutes finding the picture, and then Wyeth was overcome by a strange feeling, with regard to what he had heard. A girl ... sad ... going to enter a convent.... Who was this girl? Who, who, who?
"Here is her picture," said the woman.