Spurlock (himself verging upon the hysterical) welcomed the diversion. “Very well,” he said. He was angry. "Well, Jack," said the prize-fighter, in a rough, but friendly voice, and with a cutand-thrust abrupt manner peculiar to himself; "how are you, lad, eh? Sorry to see you here. Then he looked towards his granddaughter once more, who had flounced away to the window at her greataunt’s interruption. " CHAPTER XX To Spurlock it seemed as if a great iron door had swung in behind him, shutting out the old world. With the broken links of the chain, which served him in lieu of more efficient implements, he commenced operations just above the chimney-piece, and soon contrived to pick a hole in the plaster. ‘You know?’ ‘Come, come, Melusine. He’s a prig to the finger-tips, is Sir John—doesn’t know what an artist is. ’ ‘Yes, she duped me finely,’ agreed Gerald. She walked back to the car. And then came the vile experience of being forced and borne along the street to the police-station.
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