He leapt down into the haha surrounding the terrace, and saw that the nun was there also and backing towards him, anxiously checking now and then above the level of the terrace. The entrance was concealed between two huge boulders within a clump of trees, and was now so overgrown that no one who did not know of its existence could ever hope to find it. “It is so difficult,” she murmured, “so impossible to explain. A young man —almost a boy, slight, dark, and with his brother’s deep grey eyes—came across the room to her. In their happiest times, he was the most faithful and devoted of husbands. A Hand that strove to reach his shoulder, relentless, soulless but lawful. Lovecraft and Edgar Allan Poe. "Your hesitation convinces me he does," replied the widow. Mike chortled.
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