It was a strip of tape and a doctor’s frown and a mother superior who finally chose the truth over the quiet that had ended him — not prayer, not secrecy, not the careful management of appearances.

Some of the older sisters disliked the saying, and Inmaculada understood why.

It seemed to speak against the very virtues they had built their lives on — discretion, humility, the covering-over of others’ faults in charity.

But Amparo, when she heard them object, drew the line that Inmaculada came to think was the truest thing anyone said in that whole long year.

“There is a difference,” she told them gently, “between keeping a confidence and keeping a secret that lets someone be harmed.

The first is charity.

The second is not humility at all — it is cowardice wearing humility’s habit.