There is worse to come. " The doctor was in the middle fifties, gray and careworn, but with alert blue eyes and a gentle mouth. Her fingers clutched the side of the door as though to steady herself. Tell me why you ran away from the convent. The boy was coming around. Perhaps what urged her interest in the young man's direction was the dead whiteness of his face, the puffed eyelids and the bloodshot whites. It was one of those old sliding trap affairs, narrow and steep of descent. Her expression was a little changed, less innocent, more discerning. She must be beautiful, but beauty is only the beginning.
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