Mother Superior agrees to fund Emmylene’s equipment.
“Science is so soothing,” she says, her deep voice making it sound biblical.
Soothing? thinks Emmylene, almost tempted, once again, to blaspheme. Memories of frogs’ bodies slit open for prying fingers and the shrieking of one girl who vomited violently. Not so much, she thinks.
“Pouring from one test tube to the other, the elements of life,” says Mother Superior. Emmylene sees that faraway look in her eyes.
“Yes,” she says. “Soothing. I’ll go and place the order.”
“Thank you, Sister Morris. Bless your endeavours.” Mother Superior sits back behind her desk and Emmylene goes to phone the supplier.
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