She was dropped off at 2:30 at Whitefield Park, a huge extravagantly lit field in the new part of town. CHAPTER XXV Spurlock pushed back his helmet and sat down in the white sand, buckling his knees and folding his arms around them—pondering. . She laid her hand upon his arm. He was not addicted to monologue, and the only audible comment he permitted himself at first upon a universe that was evidently anything but satisfactory to him that afternoon, was one compact and entirely unassigned “Damn!” The word must have had some gratifying quality, because he repeated it. “That,” she answered, “is far easier to believe. And it’s no use thinking he’d stop her.
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