It was from Brendon. " The answer to this request was a "smack" of a very different description, bestowed upon Sheppard's outstretched face by the little damsel, as she ran out of the room. Whether it was the nun’s habit or the harlot’s clothing that distressed her more, he could not begin to guess. The lady's name's engraved inside, but so small I can scarcely read it. Spurling. She liked his face; it had on it the suggestion of gentleness, of fineness. Shamefaced curiosities began to come back into her mind, thinly disguised as literature and art.
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