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. She was the social leader of Morningside Park, and in her superficial and euphuistic way an extremely kind and pleasant woman. If she was in a position to help him she would help him; only it happened to be the other way round. He probably imagines himself to be a thousand times worse off than he actually is.
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