She had to exert tremendous energy not to sniff the air for his blood. She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. She shuddered with relief as it seemed that Mike and Shari were still out and about. ’ She set down her glass with a snap. 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. ‘Gérard, do not go,’ she cried, breathless. He leaned forward to embrace her. But I don’t suppose you can understand. You may have something to conceal, you may not.
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