"Then you need no further information from me," rejoined Jackson, sternly. 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. Be a
sport, and pile it all on me!"
He went to bed. “You’re just a boy! You grow moody and spellbound,
John, and the next moment you are ecstatic. Mrs.
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