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. “There I can’t help,” said Capes. “His love-making,” she remarked, “struck me as unconvincing. . And yet—I love you. They had not proceeded far when a low moan was heard. “I can only be a few years older than you, and I have been married four years. As usual Brendon lit the candles, and Sydney dragged out the spiritlamp and set it going.
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