I hope I may never come near her. 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. Every now and then something familiar in her tone, the poise of her head, the play of her eyes startled him. I ought to be able to think things out. Most of my people are upstairs dressing for dinner. He has had the whole country searched; but hitherto without success.
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