Whether it was the nun’s habit or the harlot’s clothing that distressed her more, he could not begin to guess. At the same time he comprehended that she was as pure and lovely as the white orchid of Borneo and that she did not carry that ridiculous shield called false modesty. But as the next moment all was profound darkness, Jack easily managed to break away from them. We haven’t. Her voice recalled him. ‘Ain’t my place, I know that. Spurlock (himself verging upon the hysterical) welcomed the diversion. Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way.
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