At this moment she was staring ahead; and again came the opportunity to study her. She tried to imagine herself “getting something,” to project herself as sitting down at a desk and writing, or as returning after her work to some pleasantly equipped and free and independent flat. Her teeth were chattering so hard that she had to clench them for fear of biting off her own tongue. There must be something behind the missioner's actions, something of which the girl knew nothing nor suspected. You are different, Lucia, undamaged even after what you have been through, still pure of heart. Was there ever such madness?” “I am afraid that I don’t understand,” Ennison answered.
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