Ruth stared thoughtfully at the waiting coolies. " "A young fellow who thinks he's in love, when he has only been reading too much. “What else was I to do?” For some seconds she stood watching him and both were thinking very quickly. I cannot let you go. Her body rose up to meet his in a cat-like stretch and she smiled. She was vehemently impatient—she did not clearly know for what—to do, to be, to experience. 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.
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