She could not help but admit that she liked being smiled at and addressed in the hallways by hordes of friendly faces. 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. "You have," rejoined Jonathan, laying a forcible grasp on his shoulder. "I was right," replied Jack, returning as coolly as if nothing had happened. She felt that there was a hidden meaning under his words.
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