” “Did I?” she said. Spurling, who had been hastily compounding another bowl of punch. It isn’t because you’re good, but because I may be rotten bad; and there’s something—something living and understanding in you. She found herself again in the presence of some element in life about which she had been trained not to think, about which she was perhaps instinctively indisposed to think; something which jarred, in spite of all her mental resistance, with all her preconceptions of a clean and courageous girl walking out from Morningside Park as one walks out of a cell into a free and spacious world. But his own situation was too perilous to admit of his rendering any assistance to the ill-fated waterman. I was in Lancashire, at our family seat, at the time you mention.
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