We are nuns. I had dreamt of the olive grove beyond the courtyard I had once been fascinated 198 with as a boy. ’ ‘He let them go?’ asked Miss Froxfield incredulously. I had a hard fight to begin with to win my way into the Upper Division—I was third on a list of fortyseven—and since then I have found myself promoted almost yearly in a widening sphere of social service. “I suppose things have changed?” she said. She felt as if she had struck them unawares. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting.
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