But his astonishment would have been great indeed had he known that not even her father had ever caressed her, either with lips or with hands. CHAPTER XXII Every morning at dawn it was Spurlock's custom to take a plunge in the lagoon. "My horses, Charcam," he said, as a servant appeared. His eyebrows arched, knotting in the middle. Whether it was the nun’s habit or the harlot’s clothing that distressed her more, he could not begin to guess. There was some justification for her annoyance, for negotiation of the secret passage demanded either a stout heart, or a desperate one. "This is your work," said the knight, sternly. " "What is it?" asked Thames.
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