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. But though the breach was large enough to admit him below, he could not squeeze his bulky person through the aperture into the Red Room. ‘You should be. " "As for that, I don't say. "I am utterly lost. " Gravely he watched the needle flash to and fro. A dresser, a washstand, and a clothes press. Yet an indiscriminating, wrong-headed world gave such fellows all sorts of distinctions.
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