276 He opened the box. A silver necklace enhanced the dusky beauty of her neck. 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. ‘Must be still downstairs. Great sport, eh? To haul them back from the ragged edge. Brendon and I returned from the ‘Unusual,’ and found him lying in my room shot through the lungs. Then instinct took over. " "Indeed!" said Shotbolt. “—and your aunt—” For a time he searched for the mot juste. It became a sort of duel at last between them, and all the others sat and listened—every one, that is, except the Alderman, who had got the blond young man into a corner by the green-stained dresser with the aluminum things, and was sitting with his back to every one else, holding one hand over his mouth for greater privacy, and telling him, with an accent of confidential admission, in whispers of the chronic struggle between the natural modesty and general inoffensiveness of the Borough Council and the social evil in Marylebone. The office is a sight—not one sheet of paper on another; bills and receipts everywhere.
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