‘It’s my belief she is a nun. Kevin Chen, Martin’s father, was equally stately, his dark brown eyes bright with the fire of extreme intelligence. The elusive Jane tapped her on the shoulder after class. She looked steadfastly out. The shape of the head, the height and breadth of the brow, the angle of the nose, the cut of the chin and jaws, all were fine, of a type she had never before looked upon closely. Water poured into her eyes, nose, and mouth in a torrent from which she had to turn and wheeze. “Here we are,” he said, “shining through each other like light through a stained-glass window. ‘I only wish I might have won her confidence.
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