I do forgive him; but he will never know now. He felt her warm breath upon his cheek, the perfume of her hair as she leaned over him. Her cargo is nearly shipped. One particularly humiliating thing came out— humiliating for me. Forgive me, but you have been looking, have you not, for some employment?” “Quite true!” she answered. A little darling? Lord in heaven, he had taken leave of his senses. 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. Something forbade him to draw her toward him and seal the compact with a kiss. Here is one verse. ‘No need to shake in your boots,’ Gerald said soothingly. Even our coarseness. She liked his face; it had on it the suggestion of gentleness, of fineness.
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