" "With a face as square and flat as a bottle of gin. 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. And for me there is only one treasure-house. You can’t do without an agent, and there’s no one can run you better than I can. ’ Gerald let out a sigh both relieved and satisfied and repeated the name. What about your luggage?” “I could get a few of my things, at any rate,” she said.
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