"Here, Tom," he added, calling to a shop-boy, "run and fetch a constable. They were so good to me. From the opposite corner under the trees a man with his hat slouched over his eyes stood and glowered at them. " "I will go," said Mrs. She smiled. That was odd: when young people were joyous, they had to express it physically. He forgot for the moment his own self-pity, the egotism of his own passionate love. 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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