But never had the hand touched her with a father's caress; never had he taken her into his arms; never had he kissed her. Was he really awake? The arrival and departure of this strange father lacked the essential human touch to make it real. Her name, he said, was as pretty as its wearer. Before he even glanced at the man on the floor he stepped over to her side and took the poker from her. Gosse! Dieu du ciel, but how did he get into the convent? She had perforce to obey his command, for speech was impossible. That handsome, finely drawn face belonged to a soul with clean ideals.
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