She fought a compulsive urge to yank his shirt free. O'Higgins followed him into the dining room. 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. A buxom piece, who looked, Gerald decided, as if she would be more at home in an amorous engagement in a hayloft than sitting demurely in a ballroom. It reminded her of one of the old tales her mother Marina had told her about a sculptor named Farhat. But first, we’ve got to secure the convent. ‘But don’t let me stop you from going to see Charvill. " The patient was asleep. Anyone would be intrigued. I am so amazed to see you here. Vitally, she had the letter that proved her identity as a Charvill: the one her father had written to the Abbess when he sent her to the convent. And her mother, looking unusually alert and hectic, wore cream and brown also, made up in a more complicated manner. Gosse was backing towards the table. “She wasn’t sane, my wife. ’ ‘Must we talk of it? I’m trying to forget it.
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