"Yes!" interrupted Spurlock, savagely. It was not due to shyness: it was the inherent instinct of the Woman, a protective fear that she must retain some elements of mystery in order to hold the interest of the male. But once he had steered the lady down the hall and along a passage to a window seat at the end, he abandoned the subject of society. She could run away from him, if she wished, as she had run away from her father; she could carry out the original adventure. He wrote poems to her beauty that he recited from a seemingly infinite memory. A nurse was at the other end of the room.
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