The latter formed by far the most knavish-looking and unprepossessing portion of the assemblage. I have read that authors are very selfish and self-centred. 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. There’s something—puppyish in a man’s usual attitude to women. Ramage!” she cried, and struggled to her feet. Wood with the circumstances, and putting him upon his guard against the possibility of an attack. E. Conceiving himself called upon, as the intimate friend of the deceased, to pay this last tribute of respect to her memory, he appeared as one of the chief mourners. "My worst fears are realized.
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