Somewhere in the world would be his people, perhaps his mother; and it might soften the bitterness, of the return to consciousness if he found a woman at his bedside. “Poor old daddy! I wonder if he’ll spend much on the fatted calf?. I'm about to ring for supper. “DEAR MR. McClintock stared into the bowl of his pipe and Spurlock into his coffee cup. My vengeance is completely gratified. He drew her closer. 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. “What’s wrong?” He asked as she shifted awkwardly.
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