She was a lone white woman, therefore marked. ” “You are not yourself to-night, Courtlaw,” Ennison said. 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 had already killed more than she wanted to count, yet she had counted them still. “You seem to have cultivated quite a jaunty appearance, and you certainly look years younger. These things did not harmonize with his conception of the forthcoming (if unavoidable) interview.
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