“I don’t see why not,” he answered. “I wonder,” she began, presently, “why I love you—and love you so much?. She was as lovely in the spirit as in
the flesh. A constant attendant at court, he had the mortification to see every one
promoted but himself, and thus bewails his ill-luck. Those
were great tricks that you pulled with the car and the
glass, but why shouldn’t I believe that this has all been an
elaborate hoax?” He asked. 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. ‘Do not beg my pardon. “Just like old times,” she thought sardonically. Dump and the village authorities, it
was agreed to lock up the prisoner in the cage. I was grateful. “Let us walk across the Park at least,” he said to Ann Veronica. That world of fine printed cambrics and escorted
maidens, of delicate secondary meanings and refined allusiveness, presented
itself to her imagination with the brightness of a lost paradise, as indeed for
many women it is a lost paradise. ‘And I
do understand.
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