She shook her head and smiled up at him faintly.
“Oh, no, Alexis, it might have been so much worse. Everybody has been so good to me here. The sisters are wonderful!” Her eyes left his face for a moment and travelled to the window where a nun was sitting. The flaring coif, the white kerchief, framed a beautiful serenity and Claire sighed as her gaze rested upon the folded hands. Would such peace ever be hers? she wondered enviously. Alexis’ eyes, following hers, flashed sudden distaste. To him the serenity spelt stupidity; the folded hands, laziness. Hatred of all dogma had obsessed him since childhood, and was still one of the few prejudices which had survived his habitual indifference. It had always proved a bone of contention between him and Claire, who during a three-year sojourn in a French convent, had become an ardent, if somewhat spasmodic, convert.
Swift as was the expression of antagonism, Claire perceived it. She clasped his fingers nervously and sought to distract his attention.
“But, Alexis, how did you ever find me? You must think I am crazy not to have asked you immediately!”
He smiled down upon her.
“Oh no, I knew you would come to it eventually,” he paused.
“Well, how did you?” she insisted. “You see I didn’t really come to myself until yesterday, and early this morning when I told them to notify Aunt, they said that my family already knew where I was and had ordered me to be put in a private room. I was in the ward before.” She looked at him gravely.
Alexis regarded her with pity.
“Yes, poor little girl, I know. It must have been awful. I never can forgive myself for all you’ve suffered.” He stooped suddenly and kissed her on the cheek.
Tears streaming down her face, she turned her head away.