I’ve always had a sneaking desire for the writing-trade. . As soon as he gets into blue water, he'll think no more of pitching the boy overboard than of lighting his pipe. There was just a minute’s hesitation before they gave her a room. 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. And, for a man who'll never see sixty again, he's in excellent preservation, I assure you.
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