” “It is you,” he cried, “you, who are talking folly, when you speak of friendship between you and me. “I’d chuck this lark right off if I were you, Vee,” he said. You are wedged in amongst a crowd, perhaps in the promenade, you lean over the back, you are almost out of sight. How can I tell you all I feel? I love you beyond measure. I’m sick of this town and I can’t wait to get out. ***** From the comatose state, Spurlock passed into that of the babbling fever; but that guarding instinct which is called subconsciousness held a stout leash on his secret. " "You at least appear to forget that Mr.
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