He built her the most beautiful castle
242
in the world in the desert, carving fountains where real
water ran and gardens in a place where no plant had ever
bloomed. ‘You must have been an exceedingly
good pupil. A tinge of admiration rose in his breast. 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. END OF THE SECOND EPOCH. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like
sweet brandy, like blood. ‘Both of them so wise after the event. Later, she would
sew it on. He did not
stagger in the least. The morning of Monday the 16th of November 1724 at length dawned. "
"Ah," said Spurlock; "that kind of a man.
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