"Where did I hear that before?" "Perhaps that first day, in the water-clock tower. The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. One might suppose him turning up; he knew a lot of clever people, and some of them might belong to the class. He rested on one elbow. She gave me an impression of a sort of patched quilt; little bits of patterned stuff coming up again and again. “I have waited for this,” he said, and stood quite still, looking at her until the silence became oppressive. “Close your eyes. She was by his side. And sometimes he overflowed with a peculiarly malignant wit that played, with devastating effect, upon any topics that had the courage to face it.
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