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He listened to the thunder of the fall now mingling with the roar of the blast; and, driven almost frantic by what he heard and saw, he pushed with all his force against the stone. 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. Maggot had been brought to a termination. "Another moment, and it'll be too late. " "Nonsense!" "Something's wrong. "Teach you to keep your distance!" retorted Mrs. So he made merry at the dinner table, told comic stories, and was astonished at the readiness with which she grasped the comic side of life. ’ ‘Dieu du ciel! But this is catastrophe. .
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