I suppose this is the sort of damned rubbish—” “Oh! Ssh, Peter!” cried Miss Stanley. "To-morrow night!" said Spurlock, in a wondering whisper. ’ Oh, do they? No kitchen service? No feeding of pigs? It was evident that this woman knew nothing of nuns, if a certain young lady’s artless reminiscences were anything to go by. You'll be wasting his time. She studied her form in the full length mirror, assessed 69 her body as one would that of a prize calf, trying to see it through his eyes, through the eyes of desire. Then a handkerchief was thrown over the cage, to prevent the bird from singing; it was her favourite canary. “If you think it worth while,” she answered doubtfully. CHAPTER II.
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