’ She paused, struggling for the word. Do you think that I am utterly selfish?” She raised her eyebrows. She lit the cigarette with a tiny Kelly green drugstore lighter. Spurlock, filled with self-mockery, sat in a chair on the west veranda. His wife's portrait had been removed from the walls, and the place it had occupied was only to be known by the cord by which it had been suspended. But on Sunday he had been obliged to attend to certain matters for the nuns. It probably still wouldn’t help. ’ His colour deepened. A crowd was collected round the fellow, who was rapidly disposing of his stock.
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