The tram-car, fuller than any English tram would dare to be, went jangling and clanging through the streets of Rome, out beyond the walls, on the Grottaferrata; we dismounted, directed by eager and friendly voices, near the convent of the Cistercian nuns where we were to be guests. The fact had impressed those whom we had told of our intended visit. ‘What! You are going to stay with the Seplote Vive? Do they take guests? You're not thinking of taking the veil, are you? How on earth have you managed that?’