‘You! Have you pen and paper?’ ‘Pen and paper now, is it?’ grumbled the old man as he shuffled down the hall. But she no longer obsessed over heresy, no longer did she feel cursed by God. And on Monday and Tuesday she had failed to find him here. She would not look at him, would not think of him; when her mind wavered, then she muttered to herself in the darkness so as to keep hold of her generalizations. And the fact that it was dressed in riding gear had fooled her into thinking it was her own image. It’s Providence. “If you cannot listen to me now it must remain undelivered.
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