Why hadn't he gone on with the girl's story? What instinct had stuffed it back into his throat? Why the inexplicable impulse to hurry this rather pathetic derelict on his way? CHAPTER XV Previous to his illness, Spurlock's mind had been tortured by an appalling worry, so that now, in the process of convalescence, it might be compared to a pool which had been violently stirred: there were indications of subsidence, but there were still strange forms swirling on the surface—whims and fancies which in normal times would never have risen above sub-consciousness. What was he doing? What was he thinking? It was less than a day now, less than twenty hours. ” “I will wait,” said Ann Veronica, still not looking at him, “and we will go into Regent’s Park. “Heaven knows!” said Mr. But for Ruth, he, Howard Spurlock, might have ended upon the beach, inescapably damned. ’ ‘But this is idiot. ‘Of course not,’ snapped his friend. Besides, there's something odd about the boy; for, though I questioned him pretty closely concerning his business, he declined answering my questions, and said he could only deliver his message to her ladyship.
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