Nothing else so quickly establishes the condition of comradeship as the sharing of a laughable incident. It’s a sort of blacklegging to want to have a life of one’s own. The vestry was perhaps the only room in the place, except her allotted curtained off portion of the dormitory chamber that served for her cell—and she could not scandalise the nuns by having a man in there, be he never so much a servant—where Melusine could be sure of privacy. “Do you happen to know whether she is supposed to be here?” “Very likely indeed,” Captain Fred Meddoes answered, lighting a cigarette. The twists in his brain had suddenly straightened out; he was normal, wholly himself; and he knew now exactly what he had done. There is the key. E. He gave her one of the sweaty red cans.
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