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" "I guess what share you've had in this," whispered Austin to Mrs. 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. Spurling, for so was she named, had a warm nut-brown complexion, almost as dark as a Creole; and a moustache on her upper lip, that would have done no discredit to the oldest dragoon in the King's service. She mounted the stairs of the theatrical agent’s office with very much less than her usual buoyancy, nor did she find much encouragement in the general appearance of the room into which she was shown. A distant suggestion of chalets and a glimpse of the road set them talking for a time of the world they had left behind. Part 8 “Why should I ever come back?” she said to herself, as she went down the staircase. But you will stay here?" "I dare not. ’ The snaking suspicion rolled through his mind again. There was a hint of tears in her voice.
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