“A nice time of anxiety you’ve given me, young lady,” he said, as he entered the 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. ‘Beg your pardon, ma’am, but she’s enough to try the patience of a saint. Beyond that everything was nebulous. It disgusts me that you should touch me. As Melusine approached the door, she saw Kimble speed up. She had found that proof. "You'll get nothing out of me, I can promise you, unless you show a little more civility.
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