She hated tricking Shari, whose joy for life was the only thing that made her naive enough to fall for laced iced tea or hot cocoa, depending on the season. ” “I am really curious,” she persisted. “I will tell you something if you like. Shari was snoring soundly. I have written, called—of what avail is anything—against that look. She was caught by an uncle, whose opinion she valued, making faces at Roddy because he had exulted at this. 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. Ruth felt his hand grow cold as it slipped from hers. ‘I can see why you lost your place, young Kimble.
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