John looks at the professor, and in turn the latter looks at John.

"Madame, you have given me cause for happiness; we will join you in your
simple lunch," returns the young man.

"You are wounded," noticing his arm in its sling.

"Not seriously."

"By chance I saw your adventure this day. I am proud to have the hero of
that noble deed for my guest."

"Pardon; please do not mention it."

He accepts a glass of the grape juice and an anise-seed cake, for this
plant is grown in Malta for export.

The liquid is cold and very refreshing. John has a dozen questions on
the tip of his tongue, all of which relate to Sister Magdalen, but he
does not put them, for his thoughts become somewhat incoherent, and it
is so comfortable sitting there.

When the Mother Superior raises her vail to sip from the amber glass of
unfermented wine John Craig, M.D., has sense enough to notice two
things; the hand that holds the glass is plump and fair, and the lips
under the vail form a Cupid's bow such as age can never know.

This arouses a wild curiosity in his mind; he wonders what this woman,
who wears such a strange habit, can be like, and watches her with