"At present under the care of his preserver—one Owen Wood, a carpenter, by whom he was brought up. ” She sat quite still looking at him. 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. The stage manager came out from the wings, and taking her hand led her off. It was very pretty and very dainty while it lasted, but we played it with our eyes open, and we perfectly understood the game—both of us. He reappeared in street clothes, his cropped hair not even damp from the shower, fresh-faced and sweetsmelling. " He opened his eyes again. Occasionally the canvas snapped as the wind veered slightly.
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