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Having disposed of his steed and swallowed a glass of brandy, without taking any other refreshment, he threw himself on a couch, where he sank at once into a heavy slumber. ” “Perhaps I don’t. She packed her backpack with a change of clothes, some rags, and her old length of piano wire. You Ann Veronica?” “Rather! I say—did you marry Gwen?” “Yes. ’ He held his hands out of the way, surrendering his chest for her assault. 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. Go to her, I say, and take her in your arms, you poor benighted Ironsides! I can't make you see.
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