His legs were fine and strong, he told her that he had been a warrior in ancient times, to which she snorted in disgust. CHAPTER XXV Spurlock pushed back his helmet and sat down in the white sand, buckling his knees and folding his arms around them—pondering. Why should she trouble herself over that young fool, who was nothing to her; who, when he eventually sobered up, would not be able to recognize her, or if he did, as something phantasmagorical? Perhaps he should not apply the term "fool"; "unfortunate" might be the more accurate application. The agony on the sands now ceased to puzzle her. ‘Poor Hilary. I know you’re young but I think I, no, I know that I love you. I heard from David about you only this morning.
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