Her foster father had been outside for most of the morning, working on trimming the maple trees and mowing the lawn. 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. I have done n-nothing. "But are you really there?" "No, I'm here," answered Jack, leaping down. The simile started a laugh in his throat. We’ll run away together, we’ll elope. "I'm afraid we'll have to dig into his trunk," he said. . She laughed a little contemptuously. I married—I married a woman whom I still think one of the most beautiful persons in the world. She rambles continually about Jack, and her husband, and that wretch Jonathan, to whom, as far as can be gathered from her wild ravings, she attributes all her misery.
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