She should be lifted out of her narrow little life, and it should be all owing to him. After an hour of waiting, she slammed her bedroom door and he returned to his basement. “It was perhaps my fault. ‘Laisse-moi,’ she panted, shifting wildly in his hold, so that he had all to do to keep her thus imprisoned. 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. Anna, in her strange striking way, was radiantly beautiful. ” “It was a mistake,” she faltered.
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