“I’m not coarse—no! But I’ve got no purity of mind—no real purity of mind. He watched her constantly, trapped her in corners and slept with his arms locking her like a human cage. ‘Do not think—’ he panted, ‘that I am finished—with you, mademoiselle. She glanced into her companion’s face, and she saw there strange things. ” “At any rate,” she declared, “your remarks decided me. . She went to her own table and sat down. Not daring, however, to listen to it, he ran on. 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.
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