You see, my riddle is solved. 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. Certainly I cannot kill you if you tell me to do so. “Lots of ‘em!” Capes chuckled. " Spurlock laughed. . She tightened her bandage and sat back, biting her lip. Perhaps I ought not to; but this isn't a case to fiddle-faddle over.
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