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"I thought we were going to have some music," she said. "Where am I?" she cried, passing her hand across her brow. . "He called me a wanton, Hoddy. He moaned. Now, will you do me the honour of lunching with me, Miss Pellissier?” Anna hesitated. 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. In the first place there were not so many suitable advertisements as she had expected. “That is very nice of you,” she said. Ireton and Langley had returned from a second unsuccessful search; Marvel had come thither to bid good-night to Mrs.
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