" "I'm sorry. ‘I’m a soldier, missie. “Won’t you sit down,” she said, “and tell me what you want to say?” Her voice was flat and faint. Sheppard, with a frenzied laugh. "If you get out o' that cage, I'll forgive you. He was tall, nearly six feet, and from his stature it was clear that he spent some spare time working on his physique. Yet there was nothing for her to do. 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. ‘What, miss?’ asked Jack Kimble from behind her. Adieu! my charmer.
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