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. She exhorted Ann Veronica not to become one of “those unsexed intellectuals, neither man nor woman. ” He dropped his eye-glass with a clatter. I'll have a peep at him, if I die for it," she muttered, as she went out. He put it carefully aside, resolved to defer the attempt till night. .
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