’ Leaning down, she raised the hem of the petticoat of her habit to reveal a neat little pair of boots on her feet. Then the dagger’s point came in a whirling arc towards his face. It was one of those old sliding trap affairs, narrow and steep of descent. ‘You have something more to tell me?’ Jack grinned. There were two of them. But you must promise me not to go near that abandoned hussy at Willesden. You two have a good time. She sat on the edge of her bed and looked about her, at her room, at the row of black-covered books and the pig’s skull. —BRENDON. .
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