She was reasonably certain why. 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. “I’m five years older than you, and no end wiser, being a man. ” She laid her hand softly upon his. ” “Well, you see, something has happened at home. Stanley as they drew alongside, to account for his own ruffled and heated expression. Besides, she will do no such thing. She was making it up. Where was the harm in letting her go? She could not get far.
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