" "Liar!" cried Jack. He was a tall man and fair, with bluish eyes that were rather protuberant, and long white hands of which he made a display. 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 old aspect of the place was gone. ‘You knew her well, Miss Mary?’ Mrs Ibstock turned at the window. Sheppard staggered forward. Before we start, I'll accommodate you with a pair of ruffles.
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