’ ‘You, perhaps?’ she flung at him furiously, stepping out from behind the desk. I’ve been wondering where she got her dogged will, and that hot-headed adventurous spirit, for it wasn’t from either Mary or Nicholas, that’s sure. 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. “Ah!” said Ramage, impressively. Slowly she released the hammer on the pistol, uncocking it, and Gerald became conscious that he had been holding his breath. She was still fully dressed; so all she had to do was to pause before the mirror and give her hair a few pats. Her father became much less distant towards his only daughter in the days that followed.
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