“I remember,” she said, “that the first night I saw you, you spoke of my sister as your friend. Spurlock discussed the affairs of the island and Ruth gave him in exchange her adventures with the native girl who was to be their servant. Have you suffered?" "Dear God!… every hour since!" "The Spurlock conscience. Better check on Remenham House, I suppose. ’ ‘But you don’t look anything like her,’ burst out Mrs Ibstock. 1. 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. The teacher droned on and on about the mournful funerary love of Romeo and Juliet, a tale she had long since tired of. —Strype's Stow.
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