I told her it was the end. This farewell had been particularly distasteful to him. . “It was only yesterday I had your letter, and you never mentioned coming over. , and get some other man to live on as soon as possible. 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. I sometimes laid away my father's clothes in his trunk.
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