Oh dear!—oh dear! Be careful of him," she added to her husband, "and get it over quickly, or never expect to see me again. She says she will have to, though she does not wish to. We are the species, and maternity is our game; that’s all right, but nobody wants that admitted for fear we should all catch fire, and set about fulfilling the purpose of our beings without waiting for further explanations. Pain sliced into Gerald’s hand and his sword arm jerked. Still, the respite was sufficient for Spurlock to look about for some weapon. 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. A SCENE FROM THE PHOTOPLAY. Not up here, I think. That night in Paris I saw on the bills ‘Fatal Motor Accidents.
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