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He waved a cordial goodbye. She sat there, a mark for boulevarders, the unconscious object of numberless wondering glances. ” He pronounced this with an air of profound conviction and with his eyes on Ann Veronica’s face. 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. These were so outside her experience that she found it possible to thrust them almost out of sight by saying they would be “all right” in confident tones to herself. Ramage!” she cried, and struggled to her feet. She had a nut-brown skin, a swarthy upper lip, a merry black eye, a prominent bust, and a tun-like circumference of waist. ’ ‘You mean I need not have said it? Damnation. If they hadn't sent for me, you'd have pegged out before morning. All the money he earned—serving McClintock and the muse—could be laid away. " "You might trust me," said Rachel, in an offended tone; "but never mind.
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