“I may as well come up by this train. She always dawdled, so it was easy. It was filled with sopping lichens and green benches too slimy to sit upon. I wouldn’t recommend doing anything. ‘Well said, my dear. His hand shook so violently that he dropped the handkerchief; and he let it lie on the floor because he dared not stoop. It was the gallows. The Old Mint. She felt a little ashamed of herself, a bit of a hypocrite. 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. It was Annabel who spoke.
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