Gashes on his arms were already beginning to heal and disappear. She was as fair as the lily of the lotus. Horrible details recurred to her. A couple of gilt straight-backed chairs only. ‘But how do you come here?’ ‘Down on a routine patrol, unluckily for you,’ he answered grimly. Spurlock relaxed, suddenly, and sank deeply into his pillows. She held it away from her with an instinctive repulsion, born of her unconquerable antipathy to the touch of strangers. White rang the bell. Washed in light from the vestry window, she held her ground, all thought at bay, bar the steel determination long ago instilled in her by her unconventional tutor. Stanley, at the door.
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