’ There was a pause. His scent was like sweet perfume in her state, like the sweet smell of infants. "And I'll bet a doughnut that boy in his soul is crazy to have it over with. ! He’ll come a cropper one of these days, if you ask me. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘You have papers of identity, for the Mother Abbess told me so. It came with an extreme effect of re-discovery, a remarkable novelty. But he could only utter an inarticulate exclamation. “That’s the point. More than this, it would serve to mitigate her own abysmal loneliness to pool it temporarily with his.
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