So he sharpened a score of pencils, and after fiddling about and rewriting the last page he had written the previous night, he plunged into work. Spurlock knew that somewhere along the way he would write a story worth while. He might miss at this distance. She had arranged for a supper of tea, a boiled egg, and some tinned peaches. I do not know how I shall get it, but I must, you understand. Threw it out. ’ As if to bear her out, the door opened at this precise moment to admit Saling, who barely announced Captain Roding before the man himself strode into the room. It is foolish, she murmured to herself, foolish. Published by Elizabeth Bailey 2012 www.
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