Her mother brewed potions to scent her hair, sweet balms of anise for her lips and hands, told her wonderful secrets, some decidedly un-Christian. ” He examined the emerald in his hands and placed it carefully on the glass table. 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 you see, I don’t turn my back, and I am looking at you and thinking about you from top to toe. Miss Klegg raised the question of women’s suffrage, and he set himself to provoke a duel between her and Miss Garvice. He had not to wait long.
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