It’s no good hiding it any more. But I'll call a doctor, since you order it. CHAPTER XVIII. On Thursday we embark for South America. "For my part, I don't think you ever quite got over the accident you met with on the night of the Great Storm. 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. All the initial confidence in herself was gone; her courage was merely a shell to hide the lack. The delay was only momentary.
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