Mr. Not far
from him was a knot of lads drinking, swearing, and playing at dice as eagerly
and as skilfully as any of the older hands. 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. It was a spring-tide at half ebb; and the current,
which was running fast and furiously, bore him instantly away. ”
Anna drummed impatiently with her fingers against the arm of her chair. But we're neglecting the punch all
this time. ”
“You seem to have said just what had to be said. “Thank you,” she said coolly.
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