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Detention was merry for the other detainees. "The night before last, Mr. 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. "He's dead," exclaimed Austin. It was just a shabby, stupid, furtive business that began between us. We shall become a prey to the Philistines, and must turn honest in self-defence. ‘What else do you expect? It’s the penalty you pay for marrying an Englishman. The primitive superstition of his Puritan forbears was his; and before this the buckler of his education disintegrated. It was the first—and the last! At this juncture, the handle of the door was tried, and the voice of Mr. It is most uncomfortable for every one concerned. For ten years I've been trying to go home, but my conscience will not permit me, I hate the Orient. “I believe that you are right,” he said softly.
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