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. Norris was so frightened that she ordered the postboys to drive back as fast as they could. They were now in a sort of cellar, at one end of which was a door. Indeed I must. But don't thank me; thank Miss Enschede. Descending the hollow, or rather excavation,—for it was an old disused clay-pit, at the bottom of which the cottage was situated,—he speedily succeeded in arousing the ancient sibyl, and having committed Edgeworth Bess to her care, with a promise of an abundant reward in case she watched diligently over her safety, and attended to her comforts till his return,—to all which Black Mary readily agreed,—he departed with a heart lightened of half its load. "There'll be a louder echo here presently," thought Jonathan. You have neither reason nor logic. ‘Stay, Saling!’ The butler halted, looking round enquiringly. She knew that the next time he caught her she would not be able to free herself.
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