They reluctantly went back to school the Thursday after New Year’s Day. When she confessed all this to her charge, telling the now grown up babe that there was no hope in the world of establishing any claim, she very soon discovered her mistake. 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. “In all fairness,” she thought to herself as she coaxed his mouth toward her left nipple. The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. A dreamy sense of content crept over him.
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