Loving was self-forgetfulness, pure delighting in another human being. "But, where's the strange gentleman I saw
under the table?"
"Under the table!" echoed Blueskin, winking at Jack. ’
‘I also said, if you remember, that I could not promise not to do so. 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. "
"Where are you going?" asked his mother.
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