But it wasn't the length or colour of thenails that was the problem, it was the fact that the handsweren't disembodied at all - they were my hands! I ...ouldopen them and close them, and clasp the card or release it,so it dropped onto the quilt bulging over my chest.I had, of course, been conscious of the bulge for sometime, but like everything else, had not thought deeplyabout it. Now, I grasped the quilt and threw it off me and tried to sit up as hurriedly as I could. The problem wasthe heavy. " The girls," said Sister Chastity coldly, "will do just fine. Now show uswhere we need to go, please."As they followed the bouncer down a series of dimly lit corridors, Ryanwas oblivious to his surroundings - and only his rigid self-disciplinekept him from trying to run screaming in the opposite direction. Becausehe now knew exactly what he was going to have to do. And if he hadglanced at Agnes, he would have seen that she did too. The onlydifference was that her apprehension was written all. More

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