Ruth and Spurlock separated, the one embarrassed, the other utterly dumfounded. “Please forgive me—for one moment,” she sobbed. She had no intention whatsoever of spending her life in a convent, but that was not his affair. ‘I do not know of whom you speak. “How I am to earn enough sous for my dinner to-morrow—or failing that, what I can sell. The door was closed— locked,—and the pair were heard descending the stairs. She’d prefer that I read classic literature, of course, but she only reads paperback romance novels, so she can’t exactly complain. Trodger was lying in wait at the bottom of the narrow stairs. "Auntie?" he cried.
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