“Well, hello there. . There was no response. 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. He could only wonder that this amazing thing had remained so long a secret to him. So I come round the other way and—Lordy, miss, I’m that sorry I made a mull of it. She put back her hood in a determined way. Mr. “I heard the clock strike as I crossed the square,” she answered.
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