“I do not know. His sword-arm fell useless at his side and she knew herself safe. Everything was going to hell. ’ Mrs Sindlesham laughed lightly, but her eyes quizzed him. ’ The girl held out her hands. Yet she could not bring herself to hate the girl, or even Gianfrancesco, the one who would have sent her to her death more than once. Capes saw her, felt for her, cared for her greatly, even if he did not love her. "What for?" demanded Wood. 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.
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