She mentally reprimanded herself to alter her own visage so as not to appear depraved. The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. Will you find your destiny, I wonder, or will you go through life like so many others—a wanderer, knocking ever at empty doors, homeless to the last? Oh, if one could but find the way to your heart. ’ The lad Kimble moved swiftly to the door and walked out of the room. ” She said, knowing that his kindness was certainly not the primary motivation for his magnum opus.
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