 Since she was a toddler, she'd wanted to become a sister. At age six, she was dressing her dolls in neat, plain black habits, was announcing to her family that she'd thus founded her own convent. And now here she was, fragile and sensitive as ever, and yet without the hope that she had held for so long. She could apply for noviceship elsewhere, but if she had been rejected by those who knew and loved her, how could she anticipate acceptance among objective strangers? Quite in fact,