After him! A hundred pounds to the man who takes him. Only sat, staring at him, a puzzled look in her face. 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. Kneebone,—pray go!" implored Winifred. “I cannot conceive,” he said, “how any other occupation could ever have occurred to you. “You must be the Miss Pellissier of whom David has told me so much,” he said, shyly.
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