’ Both Valade and the granddaughter gazed at him blankly. She was pleased and a little flattered by his interest and sympathy. 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. Framed in one of the square ports of the packet was a face which reminded Ah Cum of a Japanese theatrical mask. But she made no answer.
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