Playing became a way of escape. In a convent, you understand, one is like a servant, even if one is a lady. Moving swiftly to the end of the corridor, he pushed open a door at random and entered a large room, which looked to have been a saloon, judging from the faded gilt and crimson wall-paper, a mirror above the fireplace which was surrounded by an ornate gilded frame, now sadly tarnished, and a worn Chippendale sofa with striped upholstery and tasselled cushions. It was a night of storm and terror, which promised each moment to become more stormy and more terrible.
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