‘From the convent, where else?’ ‘It does not strike me that you can possibly have been in a convent. She found herself mildly entertained by staring at the houses through the rain as she walked home, all cast in a gray blurry film noir gauze of rain. The entrance of Shoe Lane, and the whole line of the wall of St. Its smooth surface soothed her nerves. The huge, newly remodeled brick house was crammed full of people reeking of beer, vodka, and tequila. “Because you used to be my friend, Lucy, and now I don’t get to see you anymore unless I can get into your house.
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