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. The pistol, it was not loaded. "I did not know … that it was … like that!" She stepped back;
but as his hands fell she caught and held them tightly. He was a civil servant of some
standing, and after a previous conversation upon aesthetics of a sententious,
nebulous, and sympathetic character, he had sent her a small volume, which he
described as the fruits of his leisure and which was as a matter of fact rather
carefully finished verse. Supposing you take them and read them?
You might be able to tell me why I felt disappointed. She became at times an embodiment for Ann Veronica
of all that made the suffrage movement defective and unsatisfying. The metrical irregularity is intentional, because I want, as it were, to put you
apart: to change the lilt and the mood altogether when I speak of you.
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