‘Quite mad, nuns are. You have changed from the veriest butterfly to a woman—you wear different clothes, you have the air of another world. It did not shock her; it amazed her, interested her beyond measure. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. ‘And I suppose I shall be obliged to endure another nonsensical tale about your husband. Nine years ago, I was honest—was happy. I have been thinking these things over lately, and it seems to me that marriage for a girl is just the supremest thing in life. She thought of them as fools, but had been sorry to see them go. Unless we can get some optimism into him, he'll probably start this all over again when he gets on his feet. Advancing towards the Master, and claiming an audience, which was instantly granted, Jonathan, without much circumlocution, related the sum of the strange story he had just learnt from Wood, omitting nothing except a few trifling particulars, which he thought it politic to keep back; and, with this view, he said not a word of there being any probability of capturing the fugitive, but, on the contrary, roundly asserted that his informant had witnessed that person's escape. But Miss Miniver was highly unsatisfactory. And opposite to him, with a book in his hand,—but it couldn't be a prayer-book,—sat Jonathan Wild, in a parson's cassock and band. "Neither man nor woman shall apply that term to me.
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