Section 1. ’ ‘A convent?’ echoed Gerald with interest. A stack of chimneys, on the house above them, had yielded to the storm, and descended in a shower of bricks and stones. She peered into the darkness. That any human being could conceive and execute such a thing! A Roundhead, here in these prosaic times!—and mad as a hatter! Trying the rôle of St. Michelle sat on her bed, which emanated scents of powdered laundry detergent and Sweet Honesty perfume. He had fallen off when trying to tie down his aluminum paint ladder. Madame Valade was that kind of woman.
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