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. Gerald glanced at Hilary and saw the stunned look on his face. She’s obsessed with him, you know, totally obsessed. Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed. "There's a guinea to drink our health," she added, slipping a piece of money into his hand. ” The talk became more and more inconclusive and exhausting. But this afternoon it discovered an unusual vein of irritability in her. The doctor had sown a seed, carelessly.
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