“Here we are,” he said, “shining through each other like light through a stained-glass window. “Of course!” he said. " "You trusted too much to your own skill, Jack," rejoined Thames. In the heart of the jungle the dog had his private muck baths. 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. “It was my sister Anna. The idiots are marching through the streets in processions from town to town, whipping their own backs until they are covered in blood, spreading the bloody Pestilence wherever they go! The dead pile in the streets like timber. "Thank Heaven! I'm not basely born. "No such thing," rejoined Thames. He can come round there.
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