Indignation carried her through that night, that men and the world could so entreat her. A young man —almost a boy, slight, dark, and with his brother’s deep grey eyes—came across the room to her. Eight per cent. He seemed safe from the sickness, having been surrounded by the dying, he had witnessed the carnage up close and yet his health still prevailed. Upstairs, in the little dressing-room, the panel was opened by means of tugging a small candlesconce in the wall. Spurlock stepped into the room. “I’d chuck this lark right off if I were you, Vee,” he said.
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