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. But, feeling secure of vengeance, he determined to abide his time. The beachcomber, the lowest in the human scale; and some day he would enter into this estate. Gerald swore. She did not have the power of men. “And what will Mr. Would you tell her … now?" his eyes flaming with mockery. He found Abraham on guard as he had left him.
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