With a moment of inward shame he remembered his deportment towards Anna. ‘That’s right. But once he had steered the lady down the hall and along a passage to a window seat at the end, he abandoned the subject of society. He devoured her with his eyes too, his shyness not able to disguise his furtive glances at the curvy outline of her breast against the imitation silk, his memory still exquisitely tortured by her movements in the miniskirt. The pause lengthened, and he had the satisfaction of seeing despair melt the set mockery of Spurlock's mouth. "Beat down their blades," cried the Master; "no bloodshed. . Sordid; but that was not Ruth's term for it; she had no precise commentary to offer. Spurlock offered his hand, which Ah Cum accepted gravely. 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.
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