I can’t imagine what possessed you, Veronica. She then dried her eyes, and laying her child gently upon the floor, knelt down beside him. "Tut, tut! Don't exaggerate. Pure luck! If the boy had grown a moustache or a beard, a needle in the haystack would have been soft work. ’ ‘When you begin to tell the truth,’ Gerald told her severely, ‘I shall be happy to believe you. He was not in love with her en désespoir which, he said, was necessary if a man would marry without getting a dowry from his wife. ’ ‘Hadn’t the wit, you mean. 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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