’”
She played “If I Were a Rich Man,” adding syrupy
trills and flourishes at every phrase. ” He smiled at her. "That's a glorious reward. . 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. He opened the door for her with a faint disagreeable smile. Yes, of course. “Let me see,” he said. Gay, was a stout,
good-looking, good-humoured man, about thirty-six, with a dark complexion, an
oval face, fine black eyes, full of fire and sensibility, and twinkling with roguish
humour—an expression fully borne out by the mouth, which had a very shrewd
and sarcastic curl. Couldn’t make head nor tail of that note of yours. I loathe this room. I want you. ” She exhaled through her mouth and could
not bring her eyes to meet his.
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