" "Why, that must be about the time of the Great Storm," rejoined Jackson. 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. Miss Mary to the life, I said, and so she is. She’ll tell everyone soon, if only to gain herself some attention!” He cried under his breath. He found that the skiff had been dashed against one of the buttresses of the bridge. “Please stop, cabman,” she ordered. He brought me past this house, and I thought I would call and leave your brother’s letter.
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