Again he played for her; and again the eruption of the strange senses that lay hidden in her soul. In all his life he had never realized a dream; but the thought had never before hurt him. "All cannot be well, if this is true. It’s kind of the World War II thing. I have often felt before that it is only when one has nothing to say that one can write easy poetry. He used a most awful word! Then he said, ‘It’s Ann Veronica gone to join her sister!’ ‘Gone!’ I said. Only identity, and a chance to be someone other than a nun. It’s awkward, but we’ll get round it somehow. During the week, her uniform was the blue and white scrubs of a nurse, the job she had suffered at for twenty-seven years.
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