The hand which the man had been holding hung limp and nerveless at her side. 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. Don’t favour your father much, either, if it comes to that. He was beginning to think about her inordinately. ‘Oh, I don’t wish to marry you. Told you how it would be. She did not want particularly to know what had caused his agony, what had driven him back to the old coat. ’ You used to declare that you hated the name. "Will you write," asked the doctor, "and tell me how you are getting along?" "Oh, yes!" "The last advice I can give you is this: excite his imagination; get him started with his writing. She rehearsed the story of her forlorn long lost mother in her head, what she would say to the theorymongers. ’ ‘Pah!’ scoffed Melusine. Even as she watched, the sweat of weakness began to form on his forehead and under the nether lip. But it is the truth. She happened to have an acute sense of form and unusual mental lucidity, and she found in biology, and particularly in comparative anatomy, a very considerable interest, albeit the illumination it cast upon her personal life was not altogether direct.
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