“Mother Claire!” I had been feeling pleasantly invisible and, startled out of this delusion, now glanced across the room to see Willie, his disheveled head sticking out from the red-crossed tabard of a Knight Templar, waving enthusiastically. “I do wish you could think of something else to call me,” I said, reaching his side. “I feel as though I ought to be swishing round in a habit with a rosary at my waist.”
