I’ve got a streak of male. ’ A gleam of rare humour slid into Charvill’s chest. He was sipping a glass of cold gin and water, and smoking a short black pipe. ‘What are you after this time, miss?’ asked Jack. "Heaven have mercy on his soul!" ejaculated Wood. 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 suppose you came right out and asked him about his family?’ ‘Nothing of the sort. A shout was heard at a little distance, and, the next moment, a person rushed with breathless haste to the stair-head.
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