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"I understand," replied Rowland. Fell to sin, did Martha. Do you think she does?” Ann Veronica picked among her salad with a judicial expression of face. Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. “Where is my beautiful wife?” He bellowed from the downstairs. I cannot answer that question. Now I have done something for which you might be pardoned if you did kill me. 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. It was a mad half-hour.
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