Part 6 When Ann Veronica reached her little bed-sitting-room again, every nerve in her body was quivering with shame and self-disgust. "Would I had never seen either of you!" cried Jack, rising and pacing the apartment with a hurried step. Sniveling brats, little fatherless bastards, you should breathe a sigh of relief. "I cannot—dare not injure him," rejoined Trenchard, with a haggard look, and sinking, as if paralysed, into a chair. She won’t be a problem from now on. ’ ‘I would have done, only you threatened to blow off my head,’ Gerald reminded her, laughing. 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. "Pick up that blade, Nab," vociferated Wild, finding himself hotly pressed, "and stab him.
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