But McClintock's mind was perceptive, whereas Spurlock's was only dully confused. Maybe it’s his loss. In the afternoon he probably loafs in his pajamas. Whether it was the nun’s habit or the harlot’s clothing that distressed her more, he could not begin to guess. She told the porter to take it to the booking-office, and it was only after a disconcerting moment or so that she found she ought to have directed him to go to the cloak-room. She had a few acquaintances, English gentlemen, but she lived with her sister—was a lady. 192 Her skirt had ridden almost to her hips.
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