But for Ruth, he, Howard Spurlock, might have ended upon the beach, inescapably damned. ‘But how did she meet such a person in a convent?’ ‘He was wounded and came there for sanctuary,’ Gerald explained, adding almost through his teeth. They joined the rabble of aspiring James Deans in torn jeans and bomber jackets and girls with Clairol black hair smoking clove cigarettes. He caressed her tenderly, with no trace of the Sebastian who had previously knocked her off her feet with a slap across the mouth. She walked for a mile or more recklessly, close veiled, with swift level footsteps, though her brain was in a whirl and a horrible faintness all the time hovered about her. " "How?" exclaimed the other.
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