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She had recourse to the torn off strip of petticoat again, and blowing her nose with an air of determination, sniffed back the tears. She did not try to approach him. “You go home and think of all this,” he said, “and talk about it to-morrow. But we get over it. I’m glad you could come. "Mac, you old son-of-a-gun!" "Got a man's breakfast?" McClintock demanded to know. It is that you cannot refuse her sanctuary. At the same time, I must say that I am most anxious to improve my acquaintance with her. ‘Yes, th-there it is,’ she uttered, stumbling a little over the words. “I am frightened now. 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. Shortly Ruth and Spurlock took the way home. “Oh, you can act!” she cried.

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