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’ Hilary’s jaw dropped open, and he stood stupidly staring, the nun’s clothing dangling from his hand. She thought gleefully of the dress she would get to wear for the Ball (Prom?) and could not wait to tell her foster family about how excited she was. It was a moment of breathless interest to all engaged in the attempt. “Why not?” “Because you are mine. I want you to be my wife. Marthe has told me that the house comes to my mother, Ma—ry Re—men—ham. ’ ‘Compel me? You do not know me, monsieur.
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