He knew what he knew. The house had in fact been converted into a convent, but the fact could not be advertised, not even in the Catholic enclave that existed in this part of town. The rain smelled of the Tyrrhenian Sea, which lay only a few paces beyond the manor's white sea-soaked walls. In a convent, you understand, one is like a servant, even if one is a lady. Fiercely defensive, as usual. We don’t want things to happen. She listened with dumb fear in her eyes. She turned to Martha as the lad exited by the back door, but her nurse forestalled anything she might have said. All the influences about her worked with her own predisposition and against all the traditions of her home and upbringing to deal with the facts of life in an unabashed manner.
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